HP & The Knights of Merlin's Keep
by Muggle1
Summary: ABANDONED Harry stumbles into the ancient feud over Merlin's Keep, two new students surprise Hogwarts and Bill Weasley falls in love. Will contain slash and maybe some RonHermione. 5th year. Chapt 12 thru 15 added
1. Reply by owl preferred

Fan fiction: Harry Potter 

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental. 

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned. 

AN: This is a revised version of the story. It is not complete and though I am working on completing it, I have many other things of higher priority (like school) that I must do first. Please read & review. 

* * *

Aaron Devlin was a wizard. His potions were the stuff of legends in his world and his magic was unparalleled. There was little in his world that could withstand it once he got going. The evil grime that he fought daily may be persistent, but at the end of the day, it was always he who was triumphant. 

"Only the pure and clean shall remain." He whispered. 

"Hey Janitor!" Aaron's work was disrupted by a rather officious looking businessman tapping on his shoulder. "When you're done with those windows, my office could use some cleaning." 

Aaron stood from his kneeled position and rose to his full 6 foot 2 inch height. Though not extremely tall in this day and age, he was a giant compared to the diminutive man in front of him, who barely stood 4 feet tall himself. Aaron looked down at the small man with a raised eyebrow, as if expecting something else. 

"Please," The dwarfed businessman added almost hastily. 

"Of course, Mr. Halvacek. I will attend to it the moment I'm finished here." His voice was a soft baritone. It held neither malice nor threat. It was the voice of dignified capitulation. "Have a good evening, sir." 

"You, too." Mr. Halvacek said with an almost nervous smile as he walked towards the bank of elevators. 

Aaron watched his boss leave then shook his head amusedly when he was no longer in sight. 

"Arrogant ass." he whispered to himself as he went back to cleaning the lower windows. 

An hour later, he had finished cleaning every office on the entire floor and was on his way down to assist the other janitors who were still lagging behind. The building must be clean by morning and even Aaron could not do the whole thing by himself. Not in the time allotted anyway. 

The other janitors didn't like him that much. He constantly hounded them on their less than adequate work. No one was as meticulous as he was and though this annoyed him slightly, it was their lack of efficiency that really bothered him. It was the same night after night. He would clean the top floor by himself in the same time it took three of the others to get the next floor down. And they cut corners all the time. Thankfully there were only three floors to the office complex that they had to clean. Otherwise it would have been impossible for Aaron. 

He supposed he could be a little more approachable, but he had no need for friends here. He was here to do a job, not socialize. And socialize he didn't. As the other janitors were talking and sometimes working, he cleaned. When they took breaks, he cleaned more. When they were finished, he cleaned the worst of their work. He was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. 

There was one difference this morning. As he left through the side entrance, he noticed an envelope lying on the ground. It didn't look like any of the normal envelopes used for mail. This one was yellowed and appeared to be made of parchment rather than standard paper. It had emerald green lettering on the front. 

Aaron picked up the letter and looked at whom it was addressed to. 

A. Devlin, Head Janitor   
Omnidyne Corporate Center   
Portland, Maine   
United States 

Devlin's face curled in disgust as he removed his cigarette lighter and ignited the letter. He watched it burn into ash, his breath heavy and fast. He looked around to see who might have dropped off the letter. All he saw was a tawny owl, sitting in a tree watching him as he burned the letter. Once the letter was no more, the owl took of into the morning sky. Eastward bound he flew. 

Aaron scowled. This was the third such letter he'd received in the past month. He never bothered to read them. They were the same as the one he got almost a quarter of a century earlier when he lived in England. They had to be. An acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

Aaron would never go back to their world if he could help it. He had forsaken magic completely. There were far too many bad memories. The teasing. The ridicule. The loneliness. 

He was only twelve when he left Hogwarts. He came to the United States and started a new life, without magic. When he was old enough, he got a job as a janitor and poured everything that was himself into it. Now he was one of the best. 

Aaron's life was simple. He wasn't rich nor did he want to be. He had everything he wanted: A good job, a decent and clean place to live. Sure he didn't have many friends, but the ones he did have were all he wanted. He was content. 

And now, Albus Dumbledore wanted to ruin that contentment. Aaron would not have that. 

* * *

It had been three weeks since that last letter from Dumbledore. Aaron figured that he finally gave up. He was glad, for if there had been another letter, Aaron would have responded. It would have been a very unkind response. 

Aaron chained up his bicycle outside the Office complex and went in to begin his work. He always started early to help make up for the fact that the rest of the staff was lazy. His boss used to mind that, but then Aaron suggested he be put on salary. Then it wouldn't matter if he worked 8 hours or 12, there would be no overtime. It also helped that he rarely asked for a raise, and when he did, it was just enough to keep him at his current living status. 

Aaron was a very frugal man. He kept his lifestyle simple. He only rarely went out to eat, and even more rare, the occasional movie. He kept up with current news by reading the leftover newspapers from work. Lunch was always brown bagged and simple. He entertained himself by visiting the library and making various crafts. He found that if he needed some extra money, or if he wanted some extra to see a show that week, he could sell some of his crafts on consignment at the Mennonite craft shop. (It took him near forever to get them to charge more so they could make a profit off his crafts.) 

But today, he came in even earlier at the request of his boss. He was expected to have a meeting with him. So Aaron was dressed in a collared button down shirt and his good slacks and shoes. Aaron brought his work clothes that he could change into later when the meeting was over. 

Mr. Halvacek was waiting in his office. Aaron noticed right away that Mr. Halvacek's demeanor was more emotional than it usually was. Rather than being nervous as he usually was around Aaron, it was almost remorseful. Aaron foresaw nothing good for him from this meeting. 

"Mr. Devlin," He said keeping direct eye contact with him, "Please have a seat." 

Aaron complied, not letting what he feared show on his face. 

"I'm not going to beat around the bush, Mr. Devlin. We're letting you go." Mr. Halvacek did not let his gaze wander around when he said this. He kept it solidly on Aaron while he continued. "Please understand that we are not firing you. This has nothing to do with your performance. The tenants are most pleased with your work. However, we are in the midst of a recession, and many of our tenants have already moved out. 

"We can no longer afford to maintain our own janitorial staff. The rest of the staff are being laid off this evening when they arrive. I singled you out because I wanted to let you know just exactly how much I appreciate your efforts working for this complex." 

Aaron's face was calm. Mr. Halvacek continued, never letting his eyes break from Aaron's. 

"The staff will be given the standard two weeks severance package. However, in light of the exceeding quality of work, and the fact that you have put far more than your fair share of time in, on salary no less, the owners have authorized me to not only give you a 4 week severance package, but an additional one thousand dollars. I realize it's not much in this day and age, Mr. Devlin, but that's a lot better than what most companies give." 

Aaron nodded, "This is true, sir. I take it this lay off is effective immediately?" 

"Yes, Mr. Devlin. Today is the last day of the pay period, so your check next week will be the standard size. You will also receive two more checks. One is your severance package, the other is the bonus." 

Aaron nodded, not exactly sure what to say next. He figured he could find a new job in a short amount of time, and the extra money would help in case it took longer than expected. But it was still a new experience for him. Mr. Halvacek misinterpreted it as being upset at him. 

"Mr. Devlin, please believe me when I say I'm truly sorry. I'm sure there are some other opportunities out there and I am willing to write up a letter of reference for you if you wish." 

Aaron shook his head, "No, sir, it's not that. I believe you. I'm just new to this, is all. I would be happy to accept your offer of a letter of reference however. Never turn down an offer that can't hurt but only help. I thank you for being upfront and to the point." 

"Well I've had to go through the same thing several times now myself. One thing I can't stand is a boss who tries to sugar coat it." 

Aaron smiled at his boss's humor, "Agreed sir. If there is nothing more?" 

"No, Mr. Devlin, Thank you again for your excellent work." Mr. Halvacek stood when Aaron did and gave him a hearty handshake. "Oh, there is one more thing. This came for you by Registered Government courier." 

Aaron was handed a large manila envelope with the Seal of the United States Government stamped prominently on the front. There was no specific office on it however. 

"Hmm... I wonder if I'm being deported?" Aaron deadpanned. 

Mr. Halvacek laughed, "I warned you about not celebrating Thanksgiving." 

Aaron smiled, "That you did. Next time I'll take your advice." 

Aaron left the complex silently. He wasn't in as bad of a mood as he could have been. Mr. Halvacek was an arrogant ass, but he was still a decent fellow. And he was honest. He would write a glowing letter of recommendation that would almost in itself guarantee a new job for Aaron. 

He rode his bicycle back to his small apartment. As soon as he was inside, he opened the envelope from the U.S. Government and emptied its contents onto the small desk that served as both his office and dining room. There was a first class ticket for British Airways to London. There were also slips that were reservation tickets for various lodgings and local forms of travel while in London. Then he saw it. A travel pass from Diagon Alley to Hogsmeade. 

Aaron fell limply into his chair as he stared at the travel pass. After a brief moment of shock, he rifled through the rest of the papers, finding what he was looking for. 

Fr: The United States Republic of Magi: Office of International Magical Relations.   
To: Mr. Aaron Frederick Devlin, Naturalized Citizen of the United States of America and Republic of Magi   
Re: Requested assistance in international educational relations. 

Mr. Devlin, 

There has been an official request from the United Kingdom Ministry of Magic for your assistance in the continuing efforts of educating young wizards with special needs. This request is made by Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by proxy of the United Kingdom Ministry of Magic, Office of International Magical Cooperation: Percival Weasley, Acting Director. It has been brought to our attention that there is a new student that will be attending Hogwarts that will have special needs to assist in learning. Your name has been mentioned as being one able to help fulfill those needs. 

We therefore request, in the interest of continued good international relations with our neighbors across the sea and your former brethren, that you meet with Headmaster Dumbledore at Hogwarts and discuss with him, the possibility of employment. This is not a mandatory obligation to the US Republic of Magi, nor if you meet with Headmaster Dumbledore will you be required to accept his offer, but we do implore you, in the interest of educating special needs children, please consider his offer carefully. 

Included here are all necessary arrangements. Travel, food, and lodging have all been provided at no expense to you. 

Please reply no later than June 30th to the following address: 

U.S. Diplomatic Corps, Special Services   
Attention: Walter Jeffries, Secretary   
1300 Pennsylvania Ave   
Washington, D.C. 

Reply by owl preferred. 

Aaron set the letter down on the desk, staring out his apartment window. He sighed heavily. He didn't want to go back, but he knew, if they were asking him to come back as a teacher or assistant, then they found someone like he was so long ago. 

Aaron was torn. Go back to the life he forsook and the troubled memories with it, or abandon a child who, through no fault of their own, would suffer the pain and torment he did so many years ago. His head hurt and he just couldn't think. He felt the pressure in his chest and his eyes watered. 

Soon he broke down crying as the pain of his past once again caught up with him. 

* * *

Arthur Weasley looked once again at the envelopes in his hand. He had two. Both written on with the trademark emerald green ink that Hogwarts used for its official letters. One was the typical acceptance letter. The other... well it was not so typical. very rarely did Albus Dumbledore send a letter specifically to the parents. This time he felt it necessary considering the boy's unique case. 

Arthur had to agree. This was only the second time that a student like Kim Vermont was accepted into Hogwarts. The first time didn't work out as Dumbledore had hoped. But things change, and Dumbledore learned from his previous experience. He would be bringing in a specialist who would be helping out. 

Albus had tried owling the man directly, but the letters met with some resistance, so he went through the Ministry channels. Arthur's son, Percy was acting head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He sent an official request to the US equivalent of the Ministry for assistance in contacting the specialist. They readily agreed and after a days worth of negotiations, arrangements were made to bring the specialist to Dumbledore at shared expense. 

Arthur had to hand it to his son. He had no idea Percy could be that persuasive and was even more masterful at maneuvering through the US red tape. Percy would no longer just be the acting director if he kept that up. Now it was Arthur's turn to prove why he was the Head of the Department for Muggle Affairs (assuming the Ministry would allow him to change the name of his department). 

It fell to his department to handle any situation that involved muggles, including those whose children are wizards and are accepted into Hogwarts. Officially, his department covered only the misuse of muggle artifacts, but as Arthur was a mugglephile and the ministry generally wanted little to do with them, his department handled most of these situations anyway. Arthur volunteered to do this particular visit himself. It was a highly unique situation and Arthur wanted to be sure the situation was handled properly. That and he wanted to see how muggles like Kim Vermont lived. It was most curious, more so than other muggles because of his situation. 

Arthur gave himself one more look in the mirror. He thought he was quite handsome in the muggle clothes that he was wearing. He had enlisted Hermione Granger's help through his other son, Ron. She sent him some pictures of what muggle suits looked like, and also the address of a suit maker in London. The fitting was done in similar fashion to getting fitted for robes, but Arthur had to admit, as much as he liked muggle things, Robes were much more comfortable. 

He straightened the black tie around his neck. Now he was ready. 

"All right, Molly, dear," He said to his wife as he walked down to the kitchen, "I'm off. Wish me luck." 

"Oh good luck, dear," She said giving him a kiss. 

And with a pop, he apparated to the Ministry. Once there, he signed out a ministry vehicle and drove his way to the Vermont household. In just wouldn't be good to accidentally be caught apparating into the neighborhood. 

Arthur pulled the vehicle to a stop in front of an old looking house. It was nothing extraordinary by the look of it, but it housed a rather extraordinary family. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves. Then he walked up to the front door and rang the bell. 

It wasn't too long before a young boy who looked to be about eleven opened the door. He had short brown hair and his eyes were a rich chocolate brown. He wasn't extremely pale, but he looked like he didn't get as much sun as most boys his age. Nor was he as tall as most boys his age would be, but Arthur knew from experience with his own children that growth spurts are as random as chaos itself. 

Arthur looked at the boy and smiled warmly. The boy looked a little disappointed and walked off, leaving the door open. However, no sooner did the boy leave than a young looking woman, most likely his mother appeared from behind the door. 

"May I help you?" She asked him. 

"Why yes, Mrs. Vermont, I believe you can. More importantly, I believe I can help you. My name is Arthur Weasley." He extended his hand but made no move to come in. He wouldn't until invited. 

She shook his hand but looked rather bewildered, "How do you know who I am?" 

"I work for the Government," It wasn't a complete lie, "I've been sent here to give you news about a special scholastic program for your son." 

Mrs. Vermont's jaw dropped a bit, "We.. we were told that the program was full this year. Has there been a change?" 

"Oh no, I don't believe so, Mrs. Vermont. However the program that I'm talking about is quite different. May I?" He asked, motioning inside. 

"P-please," the excited woman opened the door to allow Arthur in. "Please call me Athena, Mr. Weasley." 

"Only if you call me Arthur. I've always felt the government should try to be more casual in some circumstances." 

"Of course, Arthur. Please come in." 

Arthur looked around the living room as he entered the house. It was typical of most living rooms. There was a sofa, some end tables and a fireplace, but this living room also had electric lamps and a television. 

"Oh my goodness, I don't think I've ever seen one so large!" Mr. Weasley squeaked with delight at seeing the large screen. "How do they manage that?" 

"I'm not exactly sure. I never studied electronics." was all Athena Vermont could reply with. This was an odd man, even if he did have good news. "You were going to tell me about a new program?" 

"Oh yes! Sometimes I forget myself, I do apologize. Is your husband home? I think your whole family will want to hear what I have to say." 

"Um, yes. One moment please." She went through a set of swinging doors that Arthur presumed led to the kitchen. A few seconds later, she came back out, followed by her husband and their son, the same boy who first opened the door. 

"Please have a seat, Arthur." Athena motioned to a comfortable looking chair that face perpendicular to the couch. The three Vermont's sat on the couch, the boy in between his parents, appearing very shy all of a sudden. 

"Why thank you, Athena. Let me introduce myself to all of you. I am Arthur Weasley, I work with the government. "He offered his hand to the father and the boy. The father gave him a sturdy handshake, the boy cautiously accepted the handshake. 

"Now what I'm about to tell you is... Well to be honest, it's rather incredible. Hmm..." Arthur looked at his surroundings again. He noticed a set of glass coasters sitting on one of the end tables. He stood and picked one up. 

"These are quite lovely," he said, walking near the fireplace hearth. "I used brick for mine, but then, it's less expensive." 

In a moment of practiced clumsiness, he turned to place the coaster back but dropped it on the hearth. The heavy glass cracked and broke, mostly in large pieces but a few small bits flying about. 

"Oh dear me!" He said as Athena went to pick up the pieces. She looked a little more than annoyed. "No please, allow me. I insist." 

Arthur pulled out a strange stick. it looked like it might have been a conductor's baton that had seen better days. He swished and flicked the baton as he said "Repairo!" The pieces of the broken coaster gathered as if sucked up by a black hole. They came together and reattached themselves. Soon, the coaster lay on the Hearth. Not one crack much less a scratch upon it. Arthur picked up the good as new coaster and handed it to a stunned Mrs. Vermont. 

"Who are you?" Said the father, now cradling his son who was clinging to him for dear life. 

"I am Arthur Weasley. I work for the government. Not the one you're thinking of, however. I work for the Ministry of Magic. I am a wizard." 

"Ministry of Magic? Wizard?" Mrs. Vermont repeated nervously as she slowly backed away. 

"Yes. I think if you read these letters, you would better understand what's happening." Arthur pulled out the two letters and set them on the coffee table. He separated them so that each could be seen. Then he backed away, so that he wouldn't be seen as a threat. 

Mr. Vermont opened the letter addressed to them and read it slowly. He read it again just to be sure he had read it correctly. Then he handed it to his wife. She read it at least three times, Arthur was fairly sure. 

"Magic really exists?" She asked him. 

"Oh yes!" Arthur said excitedly and with a huge smile. "Naturally, we have to keep it hidden from Muggles. Non-wizarding folks like yourselves. Your initial reaction is one of the very reasons why we keep to ourselves. No offense meant, of course. However, sometimes muggle parents have children who share our talents. Normally we just send a letter like that other one to the child in question. But in this case, we felt it prudent to be a little more direct, considering Kim's special situation." 

"Are you saying that Kim is one of you?" 

"Yes, Mr. Vermont. That is exactly what I'm saying. Has anything strange ever happened while he was upset or angry? I mean really strange. Things that are very much out of the ordinary." 

Mrs. Vermont nodded, "One time, a few years ago, we were shopping. He wanted a particular toy but I had to say no. Bill hadn't been at his job for long and we were still struggling. Somehow, from twenty feet away, he managed to get the toy in his hands anyway. Through out the trip, even though he never left my side, he managed to keep getting the toy." 

"Hmm... summoning charm mixed in with possible conjuration. Quite unusual for one so young but not unheard of. I imagine he will be quite good in Charms and Transfiguration." Arthur talked as if this were nothing startling, "Oh I'm sorry. Those are types of magic. Charms are the classic spell casting, like that repair spell I used on your coaster. Transfiguration is turning one thing into another. Very difficult, Transfiguration is, but at Hogwarts, they have one of the best Transfigurations professors there has ever been." 

"Hogwarts? That's the school where you are proposing we send him?" Mr. Vermont asked, looking at his son who still looked a bit confused. 

"Yes. Perhaps you should let him read his acceptance letter." 

Mr. Vermont nodded to his son, who in turn picked up the letter that was addressed to him. When he was finished reading it, he looked at Mr. Weasley, then the coaster. Then he looked back at Mr. Weasley with a questioning look. Arthur smiled widely and nodded. Kim beamed radiantly. 

"Well I'm not sure, but I think he likes the idea." Arthur said knowingly. 

After a few hours of explaining what the Wizarding world was like, and what would be expected of them, Arthur Weasley left the Vermont household feeling happier than he had in a long time, especially because the Vermont's were gracious enough to give him an old clock radio. And it had a plug! 

* * *

It had been two weeks since the second worst day of his life. two weeks since he was laid off and got that horrible request from the government. Aaron had gone out the next day and went looking for work. True to his word, Mr. Halvacek had written him a glowing recommendation letter. But it hadn't been enough. He had not yet found a new job. At least not one that would keep him in his current lifestyle. So many places wanted minimum wage labor, and though Aaron's lifestyle was hardly extravagant, it was enough to require more than that. 

It had only been two weeks, but Aaron knew that he wouldn't find a janitor's position that would pay him enough. The unemployment rate in the city was relatively high. Employers could pick and choose. And as most employers do, they chose the cheapest. Aaron had a considerable amount of money saved up, and with his severance pay, he wasn't hurting for income yet. But Aaron had made a promise to himself. If he couldn't find a job within two weeks (which he could conveniently use as an excuse to decline Dumbledore's offer point blank), he would agree to meet with him and hear him out. 

Aaron figured he would turn him down anyway but he could at least be courteous enough to tell him no face to face. Might as well get a mini-vacation at Dumbledore's expense. Aaron was usually a better man than that, but he was also a bitter man, and still quite angry with the old headmaster. 

Well the two weeks was up and still no job, though certainly not for lack of trying on Aaron's part. So Aaron sent his reply, by U.S. Mail. He had no owl and wasn't about to go out of his way to send them one. There was a magical community in the city, Aaron knew. He couldn't help but know, being a wizard, but he had only gone there in times of great emergency, of which in the past twenty years, had only been once or twice. There would have been an owl post office, but again, Aaron saw no reason to spend more money or expend more effort than he needed. They wanted him, so they could play it his way or not at all. 

He collected the pre-paid tickets, all first class accommodations, and packed his bags. Aaron couldn't help but be impressed. The fact that they sent him the tickets (not just vouchers) at all meant that they thought that this was very important. Usually if the government paid for travel, they did it by way of reimbursement after the fact, which meant that Aaron would have had to go through the red tape of collecting. 

Packed and ready, Aaron headed out for the airport, stopping briefly at the apartment's management office to speak with his landlord. He pre-paid the next month's rent and requested that his apartment be watched while he was gone. The landlord was quick to agree, as Aaron had been a major help in keeping the complex clean (He got a rent break for it). 

The airport security was considerably tighter than the last time he went through, but that had been almost twenty years earlier. It did help that he was a first class customer. His line was considerably shorter and he noticed that the same clerk who had been rather indifferent to the coach passengers was exceptionally pleasant to him 

Normally, Aaron would have brought the injustice of their behavior to the manager's attention, even if it was in his favor, but he was in far to foul a mood to say anything at the moment. He was careful to not actually be rude, but he certainly didn't go out of his way to be polite. 

The flight itself was quiet for Aaron. He didn't bother with the movie or any of the other media entertainment offerings. Instead, when he wasn't taking the occasional catnap, he read a book or the complimentary newspaper. The gentleman who sat next to him was a talker. He kept on talking even though it was painfully obvious that Aaron was ignoring him. He talked so much that the older woman in the seat in front of them looked around and shushed him. She threw an annoyed glance at Aaron for not doing it sooner, to wit he just shrugged. 

"He wasn't bothering me." 

This prompted the man to go off into his endless prattle again. Aaron kept reading, taking the occasional glance at his neighbor, still going on about the future of soy milk. Aaron would nod every now and then, or just shrug his shoulders when asked a question. 

Soon it was dinnertime. Aaron was so engrossed in his book that his neighbor had to tap him lightly on the arm to get his attention. The flight attendant smiled and asked if he wanted the pot roast or lemon chicken. Being the Americanized Brit that he was, he chose the pot roast. It was quite good by normal standards, exceptional because it was airline food. 

The rest of the flight was pretty much the same. His neighbor (Thaddeus Weasley, Accountant) still went on about soy milk and Aaron continued to pretend that he was listening. By the time they arrived at Heathrow, the fire-red haired man had talked himself to sleep. Aaron left the man to the devices of the flight attendants. He grabbed his small backpack and was the first one off the plane. 

Aaron had timed his flight so that when he landed in London it would be late evening. Given the time change meant it was just after noon on the U.S. east coast. As Aaron kept himself on his graveyard schedule, that was later than he normally went to bed. This meant he was really tired. The catnaps helped, but he needed good solid rest. But as it was late evening in London, he didn't have to worry about changing his sleep schedule to drastically. It would be harder when he went back to the United States, but not as bad as it would be for those who work in the day. 

As he exited customs, he noticed a gentleman in a suit looking horridly uncomfortable. Aaron couldn't help but smile. This was obviously the Ministry official sent to meet with him. The poor man was dressed properly as a muggle, but it was quite apparent to Aaron that the man was unused to wearing muggle clothing or being in a muggle environment. The man had a sign with the name Aaron Devlin on it. 

Aaron nodded to the man as he walked up to him. 

"I'm Aaron Devlin. What's your name?" 

"James Thompson, sir." The man said almost calmly, "I have been assigned as your valet while you are here in London. If there is anything you need, I will do everything within my capacity to see to it. Welcome to London, sir." 

"Thank you, Mr. Thompson." Aaron said, "I'd like to get to the hotel as soon as possible. It's way past my bedtime." 

"Yes, sir. Please follow me," Mr. Thompson said as he turned away from Aaron, "We have made reserv..." 

"Excuse me!" Aaron said quietly yet firmly as he gently turned the man around to face him. "Your rudeness is rather appalling. Didn't they teach you anything at the Ministry?" 

"Sir?" The ministry official looked perplexed. 

"When you speak to me, you will maintain eye contact with me. Is that clear, Mr. Thompson?" 

"I- I'm afraid I don't understand." 

"I gave specific instructions to your office. At all times when you speak to me you are to look me directly in the eye. You are not to break eye contact." Aaron explained, getting more annoyed, "Where did the communication break down occur? Did they forget to tell you or did you not bother to pay attention?" 

"I- They- um. I was not made aware of this requirement, sir. I do apologize and I will not make the same mistake." 

"See that you don't. And when you check in with your superiors, you will convey my disappointment at the Ministry's lack of consideration. Also tell them that if it happens again, this trip is over." 

"Yes, sir." Mr. Thompson waited for Aaron to nod him on before he would turn away. 

The trip from Heathrow to Downtown London was quicker than Aaron remembered, but that had been when he was only twelve years old, when he was a lot smaller and everything else was much bigger. They stopped in front of The Leaky Cauldron and Aaron held his breath. The memories of his past never left him, but they were gaining an alarming clarity and sharpness as he returned to their origin. 

He left Mr. Thompson to get his luggage while he entered the small and quaint pub. With the exception of the patronage, everything was exactly how he remembered it some twenty years earlier. The large fireplace off one end, the old tables and chairs that looked well past their prime, and then he saw Tom. Tom had been here the day that he left for America. Except for the grayer, thinner hair, Tom looked exactly as Aaron remembered him. 

_Aaron had his large backpack filled with clothes. He would leave his trunk at Hogwarts, he wouldn't need it where he was going. His uncle would be waiting for him in London. Waiting to take him to the United States to start his new life. Professor Dumbledore had objected, saying that Aaron needed to complete his magical education. An emotionally unbalanced Aaron lashed out with his wand, not even forming the words for a spell, just letting his anger flow through him into his wand and straight at the headmaster. _

He missed, of course. Dumbledore was a lot faster than he looked. Not that it would have mattered. Aaron's severe lack of training and his pure emotional state meant that he couldn't focus properly. The spell just went straight on and hit the wall, leaving a small scorch mark. 

Professor Dumbledore could say nothing more as Aaron turned his back to him and stormed out of the castle. 

It wasn't until the next morning at The Leaky Cauldron that Aaron saw Dumbledore again. Aaron was about to leave for muggle London to meet with his uncle. His only family left. Professor Dumbledore was waiting for him as he came down the stairs. Feeling a fresh surge of anger, Aaron almost tried to curse the professor again, but he knew it would be pointless. He just tried to ignore him. Dumbledore would not have any of it. 

"Mr. Devlin," he said, gently but firmly grabbing Aaron's chin and looking directly into his eyes. "I understand that you're angry. I can forgive you trying to curse me. But you are throwing away one of the best chances you have at a normal life. Your uncle is a decent man and he cares for you, but he will never truly be able to understand you. He will never be able to truly understand where you come from, or how you perceive things, no matter how hard he tries. He has told me as much, himself." 

"Then I'll have to adapt. I'm used to it. Now leave me alone!" 

"Aaron. Your uncle has already made arrangements for you to stay at Hogwarts. He wants you there. Will you so willingly go against his wishes?" 

"Yes!" He yelled back, tears threatening to fall from his eyes. 

"You have not even met him yet and already you are defying him?" Albus said with concern in his eyes. He hadn't let go of Aaron's chin. 

Aaron glared at the professor, not sure what to think. He really didn't want to defy his uncle. He wanted his uncle to like him and disobeying him wasn't a good way to endear to him. But the alternative would be to go back to Hogwarts, and Aaron wanted anything but. Even his old school would have been preferable, and they didn't even try to help Aaron overcome his problem. Suddenly an idea struck him. 

He narrowed his tear filled eyes. "Fine. I won't quit. You'll expel me." 

He then pointed his wand at a rack of glasses on the bar. Dumbledore tried to catch Aaron's hand before the spell could be cast, but Aaron, fueled by anger and heartache, was quicker. Though the spell was weak, Aaron had placed it well, and the rack of glasses came crashing down, sending glass everywhere. Aaron turned back and looked the Headmaster directly in the eye. 

"Underage wizards are not allowed to do magic outside school. I've just broken the law. I'm already packed so you don't have to worry about that. And as for making it official, let me help you." 

Aaron stepped back, took his wand into his small hands, and then brought it down with a crack upon his knee. Aaron knew that Dumbledore felt the snap as much as heard it. He saw it in his eyes. It only dawned upon Aaron, years later, that perhaps only Ollivander himself would have given a more sorrowful look than the one Albus gave him then. To this day, Aaron still didn't care. The headmaster had hurt him, and he would have nothing to do with him ever again. 

Or so he thought. 

* * *

Aaron stood underneath the showerhead, letting the hot water roll down his body, soothing his aching muscles. He'd grown so used to muggle style mattresses that his body was quite unhappy with the soft down mattress that was one of the trademarks of the wizarding world. However, his muscles soon relaxed under the long hot shower. 

One of the few things that Aaron would ever admit to missing from the Wizarding world was the showers. Unlike muggle showers, you could almost indefinitely let the shower run and still not run out of hot water. Aaron had been in the steaming hot shower for a good hour now, and his muscles were so relaxed, he almost fell. That signaled for him to finish without delay. The last thing he needed was to fall and hit his head. 

When he got back to his room, he noticed his suit had been cleaned and pressed, no doubt paid for by the Ministry. Well if they were going to be nice enough to clean his suit, he would be nice enough to wear it. He dressed quickly and then sat down cross-legged on the bed. It was fairly difficult to sit up because the bed was so soft, but Aaron managed it. 

He then began a long complicated ritual taught to him many years before. It was made even more difficult by the fact that he didn't have a wand, but Aaron knew this spell well. He had learned to cast it a long time ago and as it was cast on himself, the wand was not necessarily needed, though it did help considerably. 

It took some time for Aaron to finish the spell, but as he had woken up exceptionally early for his meeting to day, he had the time to devote all his efforts into it. It paid off. The spell was working perfectly, exactly how Aaron remembered it from so long ago. He rubbed his now throbbing temples. The spell was extremely useful, but it had a toll, and it was made worse by the fact that he had not cast it in many years. 

But this meeting was going to be worth the headache. 

Aaron made his way down to the pub. It was nearly empty. A few customers were scattered about having their breakfast. His Ministry assigned valet, Mr. Thompson, was sitting at the far end talking with a younger gentleman. So much younger, Aaron thought the boy couldn't be much older than eighteen. However, from the look of his mannerisms, Mr. Thompson was clearly a subordinate. 

The younger man was tall, lanky, wore horned-rim glasses and had short fire-red hair that could almost stand out in total darkness. He was listening to the valet, no doubt hearing of Aaron's demand to be looked straight in the eye when spoken to. The young man nodded to the valet then answered back. Aaron couldn't hear the soft-spoken reply but that didn't matter to him. All that mattered was that he get this meeting done and over with as quickly as possible. 

The red-haired man noticed Aaron first and immediately stood, a smile instantly forming on his face. The valet followed suit. Aaron gave a half but friendly smile to the men. No reason to be rude to them, they weren't the ones he was angry with. 

"Mr. Devlin," The red-haired official looked him straight in the eye and extended his hand, "I am Percival Weasley, acting head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. I'm very pleased you came." 

"Mr. Weasley, a pleasure," Aaron accepted the handshake heartily and they all sat back down, "I'm going to be blunt, sir, but I don't want to be here. Now I can only guess as to why Albus Dumbledore wants me specifically to help him, but I assure you, there are qualified specialists who would be better suited for this task." 

Mr. Weasley's smile faded, "And you are not qualified? But I thought..." 

"You thought incorrectly, Mr. Weasley." Aaron interrupted him, "What you are asking me to do is extremely difficult. This type of thing is usually left to those who have years of professional training in this specific field. Now yes, I may be in the same situation as your new student, but even though I have first hand knowledge of what he needs, that does not necessarily mean I will be able to provide it. " 

"I see," Percy looked as if he might get sick, "Well that does make things a bit awkward." 

"Are you alright, Mr. Weasley?" 

"Oh, yes, thank you. It's just that even though there are those who are professionally trained, none of them are wizards, and none of them have any knowledge of the wizarding world. So you see, it's either you, or no one." 

Percy looked as if he'd rather say anything else. Aaron just sat back in his chair regarding the young Ministry head. After a brief uncomfortable silence, Aaron spoke. 

"I think," he began, "That before we continue, we should clear up a small matter. There was a minor incident yesterday and I wanted to..." 

"Mr. Devlin, I will not make any excuses as to why we were not informed of you request. I can only apologize and assure you that it will NOT happen again." 

"I believe you, Mr. Weasley. But I think that I owe you an apology as well. More specifically, Mr. Thompson." Aaron turned to the silent valet who now looked as if he were about to be hit by a truck. "I didn't take into consideration that the Ministry has probably never dealt with people like me before, and I always get cranky when I travel. Your error just happened to be the catalyst that set off a series of pent up bad days. That's absolutely no excuse for my behavior though. I am sorry." 

Mr. Thompson could only nod. 

"Now, Mr. Weasley, I will be honest with you. I had originally intended to say no without even giving you a chance to explain the situation. But then I walked into this pub last night and remembered exactly why I left in the first place. I'm still not planning on staying, but I will consider what Dumbledore has to say." 

"And that is all I can ask of you, Mr. Devlin." 

They ate breakfast in silence. Percy and James, the valet, didn't know what to say, and Aaron, who was used to eating by himself, didn't think to offer up any conversation of his own. As soon as breakfast was finished, Percy led Aaron to the Diagon Transit Office. From there the two would catch a portkey to Hogsmeade, then a carriage ride up to Hogwarts, where Albus Dumbledore would be waiting for them. 


	2. Libero mei anima, Harry Potter

Fan fiction: Harry Potter 

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental. 

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned. 

AN: This is a revised version of the story. It is not complete and though I am working on completing it, I have many other things of higher priority (like school) that I must do first. Please read & review. 

* * *

The houses were all lined up next to each other down each side. Each house appeared to be an exact duplicate of the next, save for the various different types of gardens. The sun was well on its way to setting and most of the residents of Privet Drive were just sitting down to dinner. Most of them. 

There was one who was working in his garden. He barely looked fourteen years old. His raven black hair was quite messy and sweat filled. His round, taped glasses were constantly slipping of his moist face. He pulled out weed after weed, looking very forlorn. 

A voice yelled out from the front door of the house at #4 Privett Drive. It was loud and gruff, and full of anger. 

"Boy!" it had been hollered, "You'd best hurry up if you want your dinner. You still have more chores inside!" 

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," the boy said exhaustedly. 

Harry Potter tried pulling the weeds even faster, but so long had he been out in the sun, it seemed the faster he pulled, the more weeds there were. He saw no end to this chore tonight, yet he kept pulling. 

He had already missed breakfast and lunch because he had not finished certain chores by his Aunt's set deadlines, and now it appeared that he would miss his evening meal as well. 

Harry was concentrating so hard on his chore that he had not noticed the wearied, haggard man that had shuffled his way down Privet Drive. Not until the man had collapsed right into the rose bush. The man rolled as he fell, causing more thorns to stick into his face and neck. He landed on his side facing Harry. 

Harry didn't register everything that happened until the man was completely on the ground. Harry fell back in surprise, but soon his surprise turned into concern. The man was obviously not well and the thorns certainly didn't make matters any better. 

"Are you okay?" He asked, shaking the man awake. 

He opened his eyes and took a few seconds to focus on Harry, but when he did, the first thing he saw was Harry's lightning shaped scar. His eyes went wide and he smiled, but it was the pained smile of a man who met his salvation upon death. He took Harry's hand and placed something in it. 

"Libero mei anima, Erus Deus," he said pleadingly. Harry had no time to ask what that meant, as the man went completely limp, hand still holding Harry's. Harry knew instantly the man was dead. He had seen the look of death not even two months earlier. Harry backed away, memories of the other flooding his consciousness. He felt it go cold, and his chest tightened. His vision blurred and he barley registered that his large uncle had grabbed him. 

* * *

Harry had a lot of time to think on what had happened. Uncle Vernon didn't even give Harry time to blink before he threw him into the old cupboard under the stairs. He couldn't even bring himself to call out to the police that had inevitably turned up to make a report. His uncle had lied, saying that the man had just landed there and no one had seen anything. They believed him, for the Dursleys were upstanding citizens and did not truck with any unnaturalness. 

When the police left, Uncle Vernon had given him the third degree, but believed not a word he had said. He said that if Harry had been quicker in the garden, none of this would have happened. Harry mused that he was right, but the weeds had come back with a vengeance this year. Harry worked much faster and harder in that garden than Petunia ever did, but even he couldn't have done the entire thing before nightfall. 

So he sat, locked inside the cupboard. It was extremely uncomfortable, now that he was almost fifteen. Harry was still small for his age but he had grown to big for the cupboard. It didn't help that there was no longer a bed either. He tried to get into the most comfortable position he could, but it was difficult. Some part of his body would fall asleep so he would have to shift again. And something was poking his bum! 

Harry reached around and felt something on the floor. He pulled it from underneath him and turned the lamp on to take a better look. It's circular yet flat shape reminded Harry of a pocket watch, though it was almost twice as large. On what Harry surmised was the face, was an intricately etched compass. In the center there was a crystal or gem of some sort. Harry wasn't an expert, but he thought it might be a diamond. He flipped it over and the back was just as interesting as the front. Either there was a second gem, or the one that was inside was larger than he first thought. There were no etchings but there were pronounced divits. It looked like it might fit into something else and the divits were to lock it in place. 

Harry breathed out slowly. This had been the item the man had placed into his hand. It had some meaning to him, obviously, but what Harry couldn't guess. He remembered that the man had seen his scar and recognized it. He must have been a wizard, which meant that this trinket could be magical. Harry decided that he would not tell Vernon about it unless he had no choice. Otherwise, he'd be locked up in the cupboard forever. 

* * *

Vernon was furious. He had never been so embarrassed in his life. Even having to take Dudley to the hospital to get that ruddy tail removed didn't compare. At least then he was able to lie and say it was nothing more than a wart that had gotten out of control. But this... This was inexcusable. 

Harry was a danger to have around. He swore this to be true on his dear departed mother's grave. First his parent's get themselves blown up, then Dudley sprouts a tail, Vernon's sister was inflated to gargantuan size, the fireplace blows up and Dudley nearly chokes on his own tongue. 

And to top it all off, Harry's crackpot headmaster has the gall to write to him. Has the gall to inform them of what happened over the previous year. Vernon didn't give a damn if this Volum.. Volgem.. Whatever his ruddy name was, he didn't give a damn if the _wizard_ killed one of Harry's friends. He probably deserved it. 

But this was the final straw. To kill a man on his own front lawn, in front of all the neighbors to see. If that wasn't proof of his unnaturalness, then nothing was. Vernon dismissed the police, telling them that no one knew the man was there until their dinner had been finished. They believed him witout question and had the body removed. Some of Petunia's garden had to be dug up for evidence, but even police said that nothing would probably be found. 

Vernon wasn't so sure, but he said nothing to arouse suspiscion. He was sure the boy caused it. He didn't know how, but it mattered not. The boy would learn his lesson. He would stay locked in that cupboard until the start of his next term, then he'd write to that crackpot Headmaster and demand that he not be returned, ever. 

After the first week, that blasted owl of Harry's started to make noises, so Vernon chased it out of the house. Harry protested at this, but a good slap upside his head shut him up. 

"If it's a real bird, it can go get it's own food. You just be grateful I'm still feeding you!" 

And Harry was left locked in the cupboard without food for another night. 

* * *

Hedwig clicked her beak in annoyance. She was most upset. The largest Round One had chased her out of the house with her Green Eyes' broomstick. All she was doing was calling out to her Green Eyes. She missed her Green Eyes. He usually wasn't gone this long when they were at the Round Ones. 

While at the Hogwarts, she only saw him every few moonfalls, but that was normal for all the owls' humans. But whenever her Green Eyes was away from the Hogwarts, there was hardly a moonrise when he didn't say something kind to her. 

Hedwig knew that her Green Eyes wouldn't leave for the Hogwarts without her. True, there was that ONE time he almost did, but she forgave him and from that point on, she was the first thing he thought about when they left for a trip. No he couldn't have left for this long without her. Not intentionally, anyway. 

Hedwig flew around the Round One's house every so often. She wanted to see if her Green Eyes was still there. It was difficult for her during the moonfall. It was so bright and she was always very tired, but she knew that humans are usually about during moonfall, and she didn't want to miss him if he was still there. 

It had been quite a few moonfalls and she had still not seen her Green Eyes. She was very sad now. She knew he didn't leave her. Green Eyes' things were still in his nesting. He wouldn't have left without them almost as much as he wouldn't have left without her. Especially his broomstick. 

Then it happened. She saw her Green Eyes. The largest Round One was screeching at him and he was screeching back, only not as loudly. Then the Round One struck her Green Eyes. Hedwig flew into action in an instant. She dive-bombed the garden and managed to pick up a small rock. On her way back up, she released the rock and it flew right into the window of the house. The rock did not hit very hard, but it was enough to crack the window. 

Hedwig flew high and around, looking for another rock. It was difficult due to the brightness, but she found another one and snatched it up deftly. The Round One's face went beet red as she let the rock fly once more. This time, it hit hard enough to break the window. The Round One screeched loudly and definitely incoherently. 

Her Green Eyes yelled something familiar. He said "Ron". She recognized that as the human name of Pigwidgeon's Red Hair. She didn't like Pigwidgeon that much, but she did like his Red Hair. And her Green Eyes liked his Red Hair as well. She knew that her Green Eyes wanted her to fly to the Red Hairs. She would do this reluctantly, but if he said to, then she knew he would soon follow. He always did. 

* * *

It was a beautiful morning on Privet Drive. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. Harry could not see all this, though. He was still locked in the cupboard under the stairs and had been there ever since that man had died on their front garden. 

The first week was due to that very incident. Uncle Vernon was livid, blaming Harry for what happened. Said he attracted strangeness and that he had brought it all upon himself. As if Harry wanted some strange man dying in front of him. 

But Harry was not released when he thought he would be, and he thought that was for when he objected to Uncle Vernon chasing Hedwig out of the house. And Vernon used HIS Firebolt to do it! Hedwig was only trying to call out to Harry. 

But this last week was the worst and he didn't even know why he was still locked in the cupboard. Even in the worst cases his sentence had not been this long. He finally tried telling his uncle about the strange artifact the man had given him, if only to get some repreive. Vernon looked more livid than ever. He grabbed the odd artifact in order to throw it out, but it didn't stay in his hand long enough for him to acomplish this. The gem inside turned from crystal clear to an eerily beautiful blood red. Vernon howled, dropping the artifact on the floor. Harry noticed that Vernon's hand was red with a burn. 

Then Vernon started yelling at him again about his unaturalness and his evil desire to hurt him and started spouting off even more about Harry's unnaturalness. Harry tried to apologize but Vernon wouldn't have it. He gave the boy a good slap upside his head, knocking him to the floor. 

Harry could feel the blood rushing to his cheek where Vernon had slapped him. He could also taste the blood where his lip had split when he hit the floor. Already weak from his previous two weeks in the cupboard, Harry was slow to get up, but he tried. Then a shadow caught his eye from outside the front window. 

The next few moments were rather surreal for Harry. He could have sworn that Hedwig had just thrown a rock at the front window. Vernon was shouting about the window being cracked. Then another rock came, this time breaking the window. It WAS Hedwig! 

Vernon was furious. Harry knew that he was in for a rough time now, but it didn't matter. Hedwig was okay and even though her action would be the cause for more punishment by Vernon's hand, she'd be able to go for help. He called out to her, yelling for her to go to Ron's. She obviously understood because she immediately flew off towards Ottery St. Catchpole. 

It was at that moment that Harry realized just how much trouble he was in. He had not gotten further than his hand and knees when Uncle Vernon... No, not Uncle Vernon, just Vernon. When Vernon kicked him in his side, HARD. Harry rolled over from the force of the kick and started coughing. He thought he heard a crack in his chest, but he wasn't sure. 

Vernon wasn't finished with him, though. He threw another kick at Harry, this time landing it just above his hip. Harry felt his insides burst with pain. The pain was so great that he lost control of his bladder and bowels. Then he felt the strap across his chest, then arms, his face and head. He couldn't tell how many times Vernon had hit him, for he had soon blacked out. 

His last conscious thought was of... 

* * *

Bill Weasley admired the old professor's office. It was one of the more interesting things about Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and that was saying something. Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix, was sitting on its perch, quietly preening itself, occasionally pausing to glance at Bill. The Sorting Hat sat on the three-legged stool off to one side. Various trinkets and knick-knacks were scattered about the office, not messily but it appeared a haphazard arrangement nonetheless. Bill knew that Professor Dumbledore put things exactly where he wanted them, so as cluttered as the office might appear to the casual observer, to Dumbledore it was perfectly organized. 

As Bill looked at the various items about the office (never touching even one), Professor Dumbledore entered. 

"Ah, young Bill Weasley," He said, his eyes twinkling with pleasure at seeing his former student and once Head Boy, "I appreciate you taking the time away from your work to see me. I know that your employers are probably not to happy with you leaving Egypt so soon after you got back." 

Bill smiled as the professor came in and sat down. "Well, sir, this is true, but I have the feeling that you wouldn't have invited me up here for tea if it weren't important. That is unless you finally _have_ gone completely nutters." 

The old headmaster chuckled at Bill's good-natured ribbing as he gestured for Bill to take a seat. "I assure you, Mr. Weasley, that I am as sane and competent as I ever was, more so if I dare say. And you are right, it is important. At least to me it is. As you know, we are in need of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Alastor Moody had not planned staying for more than one year, and I am afraid, that after spending the entirety of that year in his own trunk, he is even less willing to continue on. That is why I invited you up here. I would like to offer the position to you." 

"No offense, sir, but you invited me all the way up here to offer me the job? Wouldn't an owl have sufficed?" 

"Alas, I am afraid that it would not. You see, in addition to the position, I wanted to speak to you about some other matters. But first, the position. I am unaware of what a Gringotts Charm breaker makes, but I can offer you a reasonably handsome wage and lodging and meals are, of course, free. You will also have a budget for course materials..." 

Bill politely interrupted, "Pardon me, Professor, but I must interrupt. It's not about the money for me. It might have been ten years ago, when I freshly graduated, but now it's about the work. I enjoy my job at Gringotts. I don't make much at all to be honest with you. The goblins are extremely frugal, to put it politely, but I make enough to get by and still save up for the future.Simply put, I love my job. I have a lot of fun there. 

"I'm sure that the wage you were planning on offering me was probably at least double, possibly more, than what I am currently making now, but I don't think even that is worth leaving Gringotts." 

Dumbledore nodded, "It's important to do what makes you happy. I am embarrassed to have forgotten that for you, it was never about money." 

Bill grinned slightly, "Well... I wouldn't go that far. I don't mind being a little capitalistic now and then." 

"Be that as it may, I must ask if there is anything I can do to change your mind? This is very important to me." His face grew serious, though the twinkle never left his eye. Bill recognized that look. Albus _was_ serious, but it wasn't a matter of life and death. That was good. 

"Would it have to be permanent? I mean, I've heard the rumors that the position is cursed, but that doesn't bother me. However, cursed or not, I don't think I could stand to be away for more than a year, and even that's being generous." 

"One year would be acceptable, Mr. Weasley." 

Bill mulled it over for a few seconds, "And you'll talk to the goblins? I'm not sure if they'll let me take a year off without trying to permanently replace me." 

"I would be more than happy to put in a word or two for you." Albus' face grew lighter. He was winning. 

"Alright, I'll do it. Just please don't look so damned smug." Bill gave a slight grin, "And I'll be more than happy to accept your reasonably handsome wage." 

Albus glowed with amusement. "Excellent! I trust you will need some time to relocate some of your things, but I will need you here full time by the end of a fortnight. I will have Argus Filch prepare you a flat and your office. Now, on to the other business." 

Bill noticed that the glow disappeared quicker than it had appeared. The twinkle in his eyes was also considerably more subdued. 

"As you know, Minister Fudge has refused to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned," Bill twitched slightly at hearing the name but said nothing, "Alas, we have fewer friends in the ministry than I had hoped, your father and brother being the most supportive. I would like you to see who you can muster up to help us. If I remember correctly, you once had a friendship with a gentleman named Darrin Killroy?" 

Bill paled as the name of his old friend was mentioned. Only a select few had known that the two were friends, mainly because Darrin was a Slytherin and Bill a Gryffindor, and Dumbledore had _not_ been one of those. Even years later, after they had both graduated, they had kept it to themselves. Bill mostly from his youngest brothers, and Darrin from pretty much everyone he knew. Darrin traveled with a rather shady lot. But Bill couldn't bring himself to lie to the headmaster. 

"I-I did. We still send each other owls now and then." He replied, barley able to control his nervousness. 

"Good. It is my understanding that he deals with the black market, both muggle and wizard alike. He will have connections that could prove most useful to our fight against the dark lord. I would ask, not demand, but ask if you could try and enlist his help." 

"I'll see what I can do, but I don't think much will come of it. He isn't one to take sides or causes. Never has been. For him, it's about survival and profit, in that order." 

"Well the worst he can do is say no." Albus replied. He was about to continue when his fireplace burst alive with flame. Soon after, the voice of Bill's mother, Molly Weasley, could be heard. 

"Molly Weasley calling for Professor Dumbledore. Urgent." 

"Albus stood and walked over to his fireplace. "Good morning, Mrs. Weasley, what can I do for you?" 

Mrs. Weasley's disembodied head appeared in the fire with a pop. 

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Professor Dumbledore, but I'm afraid something bad might have happened to Harry Potter. He hadn't written to any of us for at least three weeks now. Now I originally thought that his uncle," she nearly hissed the name, "had just forbidden him to write but Hedwig is here now and she has no letter. She's also quite agitated. I think something has happened." 

Dumbledore nodded sagely, "This is most unusual indeed. I will have someone drop by and investigate. If the need arises, would you be available and willing to take Harry for the rest of the summer?" 

"Of course, Professor. We'd be delighted to. Just make sure he's safe." 

"My top priority, Mrs. Weasley. In fact, I think it would be the perfect thing to break in our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." Albus stepped to his side so Mrs. Weasley could see her son, now slightly red faced. 

"Bill? Oh how wonderful! The boys will be pleased as punch about this." 

"Hi, Mum. Don't tell them just yet. I just accepted and I want to surprise everyone. And don't worry about Harry. I'll make sure everything is okay. I'll be by for dinner tomorrow night and tell everyone then, okay?" 

"Well if that's the only way to get you to visit then by all means." She threw him a warm smile with her motherly nagging. "Thank you, professor. I have to go now. I think the twins are getting themselves into trouble." 

"When aren't they? Good day, Mrs. Weasley." 

Molly's head disappeared with another pop and the fire died down soon after. 

"Well, Professor Weasley, it seems you will begin your new job immediately." 

* * *

Bill Weasley scanned the muggle nightclub once again. Still no sign of his once and always hidden friend. 

Darrin Killroy was no dark wizard, but his activities weren't always legal. As a result, he spent most of his time in the muggle world, away from prying Auror eyes. This made finding him most difficult. He had tried to keep in contact with Bill, but soon it became too risky to send post by owl. Bill finally broke down to Darrin's suggestion and learned how to use e-mail. 

Though Bill only had access to a computer in Cairo when he was between digs, he and Darrin had never corresponded that often to begin with so there was little change in the frequency. However, this time, when Bill e-mailed Darrin, he asked to meet with him. Darrin had reluctantly agreed (after multiple threats of Bill unleashing his mother upon him) to meet him. Now Bill was waiting for him. And he was late. 

As long as Bill had known him, Darrin had always been punctual. He said that punctuality breeds respect, and in his line of work, you need all the respect you can get. But it had been a good twenty minutes since their designated meeting time and Bill was starting to get worried. 

He didn't know who he was more worried about, however. The denizens of this club were beyond seedy. He'd seen several almost blatant drug deals, quite a few solicitation transactions (one didn't even bother to go into one of the back rooms, she just ducked under the table cloth), and Bill wasn't completely sure, but the androgynous Goth, who was leashed to what he could only guess was a pimp, looked suspiciously young. It was really hard to tell with all the make-up but Bill didn't try to get a closer look. 

Bill decided to order a pint before the barkeep decided to kick him out. Even the "Johns" were spending money. When his pint was good and paid for, the barkeep served him, even giving him a napkin to wipe up the spill that was made as the pint was clunked down. As Bill cleaned the mess, he noticed that the napkin had writing on it. Careful not to be obvious, Bill read the clandestine note. It was Darrin's distinct handwriting telling him to meet him in the alley out back. The writing disappeared as soon as he finished reading it. 

Bill was perplexed. Darrin wasn't the type to play cloak and dagger games, but that was as near to his handwriting that Bill had ever seen. Going for broke, he finished his pint then made his way for the door. As he exited, he pulled out his wand. He didn't care if any muggles saw him, this whole situation just screamed out wrongness. 

He looked down the alley and saw Darrin standing there, staring back at him. Darrin noticed the wand and held out his hands to show that he was unarmed. Keeping an eye out, Bill walked down the darkened alleyway toward his old friend. 

"Are you planning to use that or are you just trying to be a show-off again?" Darrin asked. 

"You tell me. Seedy bars, secret notes, back alley meetings. If I didn't know any better I would say that this was one of those Humpley Boggart films the Americans love so much. This cloak and dagger crap isn't you, Darrin." 

"That's Humphrey Bogart. And if it were five years ago, I'd agree with you. But recent developments in the wizarding underworld have forced me to hide from more than just Aurors." 

Bill looked straight into Darrin's eyes as if reading his soul. 

"What happened?" 

"You-Know-Who happened. He's back in full force. And before you try and deny it, remember that I see things the Ministry doesn't see, or more accurately, refuses to acknowledge." 

"I believe you, Darrin, but how do you know this?" 

"The black market has been flooded with demands for anything even remotely resembling dark magic. Business has been absolutely fantastic for guys in my line of work. And don't give me that look, you know damn well I don't deal in that shit. Anyway, people talk, and word is that he came back a couple months ago. Something to do with the Tri-Wizard tournament. I heard a kid was even killed." 

"It's true. I was there." Bill said morosely. 

Darrin went pale and his voice cracked minutely, "It wasn't Harry?" 

"No. A schoolmate of his named Cedric Diggory. Look, I'll tell you all about it, but I came here for a purpose. I need to ask you a favor." 

"That depends on how much money I'm going to make and how much trouble I have to avoid to make it." 

"Nothing, and a hell of a lot." Bill said as he took a look around them, himself, "You know, I feel rather vulnerable in this alley, wand out or not. Can we go someplace a little warmer and a lot less scary?" 

"Yeah, we can head back to my flat on my motorbike. You can tell me all about your favor on the way." 

Bill had to ride behind Darrin on the motorcycle, though there was plenty of room. It was huge. As Darrin drove them back to his flat, Bill explained most of what happened at the Tri-Wizard tournament. He left out certain things, namely about Sirius Black and Barty Crouch, Jr., but told him most everything that Harry had relayed to Dumbledore the awful night of the third task. Then he told him about having to check on Harry and Dumbledore's request. 

Darrin didn't answer right away. Bill could see that he needed to think about it, so he remained silent. It wasn't until they pulled into a car park that Darrin spoke. 

"I need to think about this one, Gryffindor, and that's only because it's you asking." Darrin's eye twitched. A sign to Bill that Darrin was either seriously distraught or in very deep thought. Bill accurately presumed it was both. "It's late. I won't be able to sleep tonight, that's for sure, but you're welcome to stay." 

Bill could only nod in silence. Darrin needed to work out this quandary in his own way, and Bill knew from their years at Hogwarts that his way usually involved a lot of pacing on Darrin's part with little to no noise to distract him. Darrin handed him the key. 

"308. Leave it unlocked and there's some leftover stew mum made in the icebox." 

Bill nodded again then went up to the flat. The stew was cold but a welcome relief for Bill's empty stomach. Darrin's mum wasn't as good a cook as his own, but she was good in her own right. Then Bill laid down on the davenport. His thoughts were a torrent of chaos. He pondered about what exactly he was going to teach his students. He wondered about Harry's welfare. He considered what it was he was asking his old friend to do. He didn't realize when he fell asleep, but he was awoken with the smell of sizzling bacon and eggs. 

He got up and stretched, then wandered over to the kitchen to see Darrin frying up a large breakfast. 

"Typical Gryffindor, having a lie in when there's work to be done." he said with joviality. 

"I take it you're human again, then?" 

"No, but I did get a couple hours of sleep so I can fake it for a bit. You are taking me with you to check on Harry Potter." It wasn't a request. 

"Darrin, I don't think..." 

"I didn't ask you to think, Gryffindor. It's real simple. My help comes at a price. No exceptions. My price is that I go with you so I can meet Harry myself. I doubt I'd ever get another opportunity and frankly the same can be said about my help." 

Bill breathed in and was trying desperately to think of a rebuttal, but none came. He let out a sigh. 

"Thank you, Bill." 

Bill was shocked. Darrin only called him Bill once before, and that had been at Hogwarts, after Bill tried to prevent a group of older year students from completely mauling him. In the end, they both got beat up, but Darrin was grateful for the attempt. Their friendship amidst the shadows began then. 

"Damn it, Gryffindor, I'm allowed to go soft once in a while, now sit down and eat your eggs before I do." 

The two ate breakfast in silence. Not because the weight of the times was bearing on their shoulders, but merely because they were stuffing themselves with hefty portions of eggs and bacon. Having been fed and watered, they grabbed their coats and made their way to the car park. 

"Can you ride?" Darrin asked, tossing him a set of keys. "Take that motorbike with the sidecar. If what you told me about these muggles is true, we'll most likely be taking him with us. You can stick his trunk in the sidecar and he can piggy back on mine." 

"You own two motorbikes?" Bill asked as he walked over to his ride. 

"Gryffindor, I own the whole freaking building." Darrin said with a devilish grin as he mounted his motorcycle, throwing the tail of his leather trench coat behind him, "I may have made a bundle on the black market, but I had to launder it into the muggle world somehow. What better way than through a legitimate business." 

"I don't want to know. I _really_ don't want to know." 

"Always the Gryffindor." Darrin said has he put on his helmet. 

The two started up and Bill led the way to Little Whinning, Surrey. To a quaint street called Privet Drive. 

* * *

Bill Weasley and Darrin Killroy rode their motorcycles down the quiet street of Privet Drive. Bill knew the moment he started the engine back in London that Darrin had some sort of quieting enchantment on them. Bill had ridden a few times and every last one was noisier than all get out. 

Bill didn't ask what other enchantments they had on them. His father was the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department with the ministry. The less he knew, the less trouble he might get him and his father in. 

Bill looked around for Number Four. It wasn't hard to find as the house numbers were prominently displayed for all to see. They parked their bikes in front of Vernon Dursley's driveway. 

Bill thought the street looked unusually empty, but then it was the weekend. Perhaps everyone was having a lie in. The two walked up the Dursley's brick path. Bill readied himself with his most charming smile. Everything he had heard about the Dursley's meant that his long hair and dress style would make his task that much harder. Darrin's wasn't much help either. 

They got up to the door and Bill knocked. After a minute, a very large boy answered. He looked at the both of them with an odd look, as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of the two. 

"Who are you?" He asked, not intending it to be rude. 

"I am Bill Weasley, I need to speak with your father or mother about a very important matter. Is either one of them here now?" 

"They both are. One moment." The boy eyed the two suspiciously, almost as if expecting them to attack him if he turned away, "Dad! Some men are at the door for you!" 

Not to long after the boy shouted for his father, was a portly, thick-necked man at the door, wondering who was bothering his breakfast. He took one look at Bill's fire red hair and instantly recognized him. Or at least his relation. 

His face turned as red as Bill's hair and he started to sputter. 

"What are you doing here?! I thought I made it perfectly clear to the other one that none of your kind were ever allowed back here!" 

Bill nodded, "And if it weren't an emergency, sir, we'd be more than happy to oblige, but you see, there's a problem. Harry's owl, Hedwig is currently at my parent's house. My mother, dear sweet lady that she is, is under the silly notion that if Hedwig is over there, and Harry isn't, then something is quite wrong. I was sent here to make sure that nothing is wrong. Mother's can be very intrusive sometimes, don't you think? You don't mind if we speak with Harry for a moment, do you?" 

As Bill spoke, Darrin pushed the fat man inside so that they could enter. They did quickly and shut the door behind them. Vernon was beyond livid. 

"YOU WILL GET OUT OF MY HOUSE THIS INSTANT!" he bellowed, spit flying from his mouth. 

"Or what?" Darrin asked calmly, "You'll call the police? By the time they get here we'll already have gone, and do you honestly think they could follow us? Best if you just let us speak to Harry. Then we'll leave and be done with you. It's either that or have us wander around your house looking for him. It's up to you, but we are going to see Harry and nothing short of Divine intervention will stop us." 

Vernon obviously didn't believe him, because he made for the telephone. Darrin was quicker. He pulled his wand out and aimed it at the phone. As soon as Vernon picked up the receiver, it turned into a baby toy version of a phone, squeaks included. Vernon clamped his mouth shut and squeaked himself as he dropped the now tiny plastic receiver. 

"I warned you." was all the sandy blond man said, wand still out and pointing _almost_ at Vernon. 

Bill took this as his cue to start searching the house. Petunia had heard what was going on and wisely stayed in the kitchen. She gasped in fright when Bill poked his head through the door. Bill just smiled friendly like. 

"Smells delicious. Excuse me." He then ducked back out. His search of the rest of the house was quick. He found Harry's room, with some of his things scattered around in typical teenage fashion, but no Harry. The rest of the house proved fruitless as well. 

"He's not upstairs and I don't think this place has a basement." Bill said, starting to sound worried. 

"Okay, Dursley. Where is he?" 

Vernon didn't seem to be able to speak but his eyes had glanced towards the staircase briefly. 

"Check the staircase." Darrin hadn't missed one twitch; he was so focused on Vernon. 

Bill looked at the locked cupboard. He pulled out his wand and said, "Alohomora!" The lock popped open and he quickly pulled the door open. The sight that he beheld nearly caused him to faint. As it was, he was already weak-kneed. 

Their Harry lay, bloodied and unconscious. An acrid smell of feces and urine hit Bill's nose and he almost lost his lunch. Anger swelled within him. In one instant he turned towards Vernon, wand ready to cast a nasty curse, but Darrin had caught him with his free hand. 

"Not now, Gryffindor. He'll get his later. Harry first. We need to help Harry." 

Bill's breathing was fast and furious, but he managed to calm down enough to put his wand away. He then gently picked up the unconscious Harry. The battered boy was extremely light, showing his near starvation. He set him down and quickly assessed his vitals. Harry was alive and breathing, albeit irregularly and stifled. 

"He's alive, barely." 

"Good. I'll see to his things. Make sure these gelatinous landmasses stay put. And you, Dursley, don't give him another reason to kill you." 

Darrin ran upstairs. It didn't take him long to find Harry's room. He cast a series of charms. The first collected all the things that belonged to Harry; the next packed them in his trunk. He quickly cast a shrinking spell on Hedwig's cage and packed it as well. Then, once the trunk was full. He closed and shrank it as well. He put it in his coat pocket and went downstairs, hoping that Bill hadn't gone off the deep end and done something bad to the Dursleys. 

He was in luck. Bill still resembled a human. 

"Okay, I got Harry's things. Let's get him out of here. Can you ride?" 

It took Bill a moment to compose himself, but soon he nodded. He picked up Harry and took him out to his motorcycle. They were originally going to put Harry's trunk in the sidecar, but the plan had obviously changed. 

Darrin lingered behind for a moment. He put his wand away, but maintained his glare. 

"If I were to curse you right now, I'd be arrested and sent to a place worse than hell. You see, our laws prevent us from using magic on muggles such as yourself in a harmful manner, even if you do deserve it. However, if I were to beat you within an inch of your life, they wouldn't bat an eye. Hell, they might even thank me. 

"But I'm not going to do that. I'm a better man than you, Dursley. A criminal, yes. Mercenarial, even more so, but I am still a better man than you. However, I will give you this one, and only one warning," Darrin pulled out an automatic pistol and shot out the Television screen, "You are being watched. Don't fuck up again." 

He left the Dursleys to shudder in fear, though in Petunia's case, it was to faint, for she had only heard the gunshot. 

Bill looked at him in horror as he mounted his own motorcycle. 

"Your father will be disappointed to know that there is one less muggle television set in this world." 


	3. The Devil and the Bee

Fan fiction: Harry Potter 

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental. 

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned. 

AN: This is a revised version of the story. It is not complete and though I am working on completing it, I have many other things of higher priority (like school) that I must do first. Please read & review. 

* * *

The beautiful morning did nothing to ease the weight on Albus Dumbledore's heart. Dark times were ahead and even he feared what may come. It didn't help that Harry Potter had seemed to be in another spot of trouble. Only this time it was not of his own doing. 

Albus blamed himself for what happened. He had known that the Dursleys despised magic, but he never would have guessed that even Vernon would do such acts. Dumbledore was not naive. He had seen what despicable acts humans were capable of. Hitler, Grindelwald, Voldemort, it didn't matter if they were wizard or muggle. But he had underestimated Vernon Dursley. 

He had gotten an owl from Arabella Figg not fifteen minutes ago, telling him what she had witnessed. He strongly suspected that it would have been a howler if it hadn't been for the urgency of the situation. But it was out of his hands at the moment. Bill Weasley was already on his way to pick him up. If he needed assistance, he would call for it. 

Minerva McGonagall broke his silent reverie. 

"He'll be all right, Albus. He's faced Voldemort four times already. Surely not even muggles like the Dursleys could really hurt him?" her voice was filled with a false hope. She knew, as he did, that muggles could be extremely dangerous at times. 

"If only that were true, Minerva." Albus sighed, "I am afraid that Harry is in far more danger than he has ever been. And it is all due to my short-sightedness." 

"Professor Dumbledore! I will not stand here and listen to you blame yourself for something that you could not have foreseen. I..." 

"But you saw it, did you not?" he interrupted. 

"I don't know what you mean." 

"Fourteen years ago, on Privet Drive. When we left him on the Dursley's doorstep. You said they were the worst sort of muggles." 

"I merley meant that they were as mundane as they could be. I didn't know that this would happen." Professor McGonagall explained, "Now I know you quite well, Albus Dumbledore. You are human like the rest of us, and like all humans, you make mistakes. What makes you the great man that everyone thinks you are is that you not only learn from your mistakes, you fix them. 

"Now Bill Weasley is on his way to pick Harry up very shortly. He will need our help. I suggest you stop sulking and make preparations to visit The Burrow. Madam Pomfrey won't be back until mid-August and you are the second closest thing we have to a doctor here." 

Minerva ushered the old professor out of his own office. 

"I will be along to help shortly. I just need to finish this year's batch of acceptance letters. Now go before I'm tempted to curse you with a tickling charm." 

The familiar twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes returned as he quickly and wisely followed McGonagall's orders. 

Now that she could work in peace, Minerva went to the cabinet where the enrollment scroll was kept. She opened it with a sense of awe. Even though she had been doing this for decades, the experience was never lost on her. 

The enrollment scroll itself was nothing spectacular. Just a standard scroll of parchment that had to be replaced every once and a while, but what was truly magnificent was the quill used to write the names of future students. It had one of the most powerful spells on it ever devised. Whenever a wizard child was born, either to a wizard or muggle family, it wrote the name of that child down as a possible student. 

Now this particular quill's charm only extended to Europe. Other schools, of course, had their own ways of selecting students. But regardless, the experience of just holding the quill was humbling. 

Minerva took the scroll, already filled with names that, in eleven years, would more than likely be receiving their own Hogwarts acceptance letter. She replaced it with a fresh scroll. This was done once a year. The old scroll was kept for eleven years, when it was time to invite them to Hogwarts. During that time, if a student moved or more unfortunately, died, the name would be struck through automatically. This also would happen if the student had chosen to go to another Wizarding school. It sometimes happened. 

She then placed the name filled scroll in another cabinet, which had a preservation charm on it. It would keep the scroll as fresh and whole as it had been when placed in the cabinet. After ten years, even magic scrolls sometimes deteriorated. Then she pulled out this year's list of new students and perused it. Only a few names were crossed off. Thankfully none of them were in the telltale red ink that indicated death. 

Now was the time that she enjoyed the most. It was time to use the quill. Now the quill was, by definition, always in use as it would float up and write a new name on the scroll whenever it sensed the birth of a wizard or witch, but that was just one of its uses. She took the quill with reverence and placed it on the desk next to the stack of parchments that would be the acceptance letters. 

She then pulled out her wand and cast a spell. 

"Quill of Hogwarts, wise and true,   
Write us the names, of students anew,   
Of all the young, within our reach,   
Tell us please, who we will teach," 

The words were completely unnecessary, but McGonagall couldn't help herself. It was one of the few childish pleasures she allowed herself, and that was only once a year. She pointed her wand at the quill and tapped it lightly. 

The quill sprang to life and started writing out the acceptance letters. As it finished with one, the parchment flew off the stack by itself so the quill could continue. McGonagall folded and stuffed the parchment into envelopes as the quill continued to write. The envelopes would address themselves as they were sealed. 

When the quill finished, it flew over to where the new enrollment scroll had been placed and wrote down several names. Obviously a few new wizards and witches were born as the letters were being written. 

Minerva took the stack of now full envelopes and checked them against this year's scroll. The quill never made any mistakes, but Minerva always double-checked. In the magic world, strange things could happen and they usually did if one wasn't paying attention. As it turned out, she realized this was a good idea. There was an extra letter written, addressed to an S. Bergstead, nestled between Baxter and Bones. She double-checked the list to be absolutely sure. Sure enough there was Baxter, Laura and Bones, Geoffrey but no Bergstead. 

One thing that Dumbledore had told her that he never let her forget, if the quill writes a letter that isn't on one list, it _will_ be on another. She checked the previous year's lists. When she got to the current fifth year's scroll, she saw a name, Bergstead, Simon, crossed out in red. However, as she looked closer, the blood red line that indicated death slowly disappeared. She watched in shock until the name was completely whole once again. 

After a brief moment of bewilderment, she shook her head clear and went to owl the letters. The odd one she would keep until she could speak to Dumbledore about it. And odd it was. 

* * *

Not five miles from The Burrow, Darrin flagged them off to the side of the road. He lifted the shield on his helmet so he could talk to Bill. 

"This is as far as I go." 

"What? You said you were going to help us!" 

"And I meant it. But it has to be my way or not at all. I'm not keen on You-Know-Who coming back and I'm willing to help where I can, but I've still got a business to run and people to bribe. Information isn't cheap and since you aren't offering up the cash, I need to cover costs somehow. Besides, if your father or brothers see me, we're both in trouble, and you know it." 

Bill sighed though it couldn't be heard over the engines of their motorcycles. He gave Darrin a nod then offered his hand. Darrin shook it then handed him Harry's shrunken trunk. 

"I suspect he'll be wanting that eventually. Take care of him, Bill, he's important." Darrin turned his bike to the opposite direction, "And tell your mum I miss her mince pies." 

Darrin took off before Bill could give a reply. He shook his head and wasted no more time in getting back underway. Harry had been stabilized by their combined magics, but that wouldn't hold forever. He needed real medical attention and soon. 

He couldn't get to Hogwarts in time and St. Mungos would be too accessible for Voldemort, so The Burrow was the only likely choice. It had been decided that the Burrow would be a safe house for those who were fighting against Voldemort. Though it wasn't as fancy as a manor, it had the advantage of being almost out in the open. With the proper spells and provisions in place, The Burrow would be difficult to attack. 

The first thing that Bill noticed as he pulled up was Albus Dumbledore, waiting for him. He didn't bother asking the professor how he knew to be here; just immediately rattled off everything he could about Harry's injuries and what they did to stabilize him. 

Albus already had a stretcher floating by, waiting for Harry, and he was placed on it immediately and brought inside. Bill noticed the front room had been cleared of most of the furniture and there was a large examining table in the center of it. Apparently, Dumbledore knew most of what to expect. 

This did not prevent the look of remorse on Albus' face, but he did not let his feelings get in the way of helping the boy. After a few examination spells, Dumbledore looked slightly relieved. 

"He has a broken rib, but thankfully it has not punctured anything." His voice carried his age, but it still held hope, "The bruising can be mostly healed with a strong potion that Molly is brewing as we speak. He is very undernourished. Almost starving, but not quite. We should moderate his diet for the next week or so until he recovers. Physically, it looks much worse than it is." 

Bill and Arthur let out a collective sigh along with a Great Merlin and Thank God respectively. Albus cast one more spell, which he used to repair Harry's broken rib. 

"Now all he needs is the potion and rest." 

Arthur took the initiative and motioned for Bill to help him carry Harry into the master bathroom. 

"We can get him cleaned up in private. I sent the other kids over to the neighbors, but knowing them, they'll be here any minute asking questions. It'd be best if they didn't see him like this." 

Bill didn't argue. Harry was a sight, and his smell was worse. He held his breath as they peeled the soiled clothing off his body. Twice he had to leave the room for a bit of air. Arthur seemed un-phased. 

"You would think after seven years in the tombs of Egypt I would be used to foul odors. I'm not trying to be rude or anything, but how can you stand it?" 

"Well I may work for the ministry, and your mother may be a housewife, but make no mistake. With seven children, I changed my share of diapers. You learn to ignore it." 

Bill couldn't help but chuckle. Soon they had him stripped and laying in the bathtub. Arthur turned on and adjusted the water to a good warm temperature, but not scalding. With Bill's help holding Harry upright, Arthur gently and painstakingly cleaned the boy. The blood and other matter were soon washed away leaving only bruised skin. 

Bill marveled at how easily and expertly he had handled all of this. It dawned on him that he wanted to do that himself. He wanted to be a father. He sighed, knowing that it wasn't practical for a curse breaker or even professor to be a father, but still, it gnawed at his stomach a little bit. 

He turned back to his father, who was now gently drying Harry. 

"How do you do it?" 

"Well as I said before, you learn to ignore it." 

"No, how do you go from Ministry official to nanny so easily?" 

"I hate to disillusion you, Bill," Arthur spoke in an unusual seriousness, "But for a father, there is no difference. I am a father first and one thing a father does is take care of his children. Even when it gets messy. If I left this kind of thing for just your mother to take care of, then I wouldn't be a great father." He then added quickly, "Never mind the fact that she would hex me into the next life." 

"I sometimes wonder who wears the pants in our family." Bill said teasingly as they carried the still unconscious boy into the master bedroom. 

"That makes two of us. I'll admit that your mother and I tend to fall in the old cliché roles, but that is only because it's who we are. But if Molly were to walk in here right now and tell me she was going to get a job of her own, I'd support her completely. I doubt she would do the same if I were to up and quit, but then, if I were her, I wouldn't support that decision either." 

"I hope I can be a father someday." Bill said wistfully as the two put pajamas on Harry. 

They soon had him tucked in the large bed. Despite the purple marks blemishing his face, Harry looked at peace. Arthur gently brushed the wild hair out of the boys face. He then turned and looked Bill straight in the eye, looking deadly serious. 

"I hope you can too, son. But know this, once you are, seeing a sight like this is all the more painful. Because no matter how hard you try not too, you will always see the face of your own child lying there. Always." 

Bill could see his father's eyes water slightly. He thought his father a gentle and kind man. Never prone to the stereotypical machismo front that most men put forth. But even still, he'd never actually seen his father cry. The gnawing feeling in his stomach was back in force. He pulled his father into a tight hug. 

"I love you, dad." 

"And I love you, son." 

* * *

Things don't always go as planned. This is true in the wizarding world as much as it is in the muggle world. Aaron found this out the moment they arrived in Hogsmeade. He and Percy Weasley were supposed to take a horseless carriage up to Hogwarts, but Professor McGonagall, whom Aaron had not seen for twenty years, met them as they exited the Hogsmeade Transit Service. The look on her face was tell tale that something was seriously wrong. 

"Mr. Weasley, Mr. Devlin," She said with a slight break in her voice, "There's been an emergency. Someone's been seriously injured and Professor Dumbledore is at The Burrow handling the situation however I do not think he will want to return here anytime soon." 

"What happened, Professor?" Percy asked, starting to worry. What if it was one of his siblings, or his parents? "Who's hurt?" 

"Harry Potter," McGonagall said, her voice breaking a little more, "Albus will have the situation in hand by now, but I do not think he will want to leave until he's absolutely sure Harry will be okay. Mr. Devlin, he wants to apologize for this disruption, and he asks that you bear with it for the time being and meet with him at The Burrow." 

"That will be fine, Professor McGonagall." Aaron said impassively. He was annoyed that he was being drug all over the countryside, but he suppressed it, given the situation. It was not lost to him either that the one who was hurt was Harry Potter. Now all that remained was getting there. "Will we be portkeying?" 

Percy shook his head. "Custom portkeys are extremely expensive. We'll have to go by floo powder. Professor, if you would please Apparate ahead of us and make sure the fire is clear, I would appreciate it." 

"Of course, Mr. Weasley. I shall see you both again shortly." And with a pop, she was gone. 

"I'm really sorry this happened." Percy apologized. His voice was steady but his face betrayed his worry. 

"Mr. Weasley, let me get one thing straight. You should never apologize to me for something that is one, not your fault, and two, not in your control. Emergencies happen and we have to deal with them. Other things can wait." 

Percy nodded, "Then we should get back inside. They'll have a fireplace that's hooked up to the floo network." 

"That reminds me," Aaron said nervously, "I've never been able to travel by floo powder before. How do I do it?" 

"You just throw some of the powder into the fire, step into it and say where you are going in a loud clear voice. In this case, it's The Burrow." 

"Loud clear voice? And it's pronounced The Burrow?" Aaron kept practicing, putting emphasis on each syllable. 

The line for the floo network was quicker than those traveling by portkey. In no time, it was their turn. Percy went first. He threw in the powder, stepped in and shouted "The Burrow!" and in a spinning poof of smoke, he was gone. 

Aaron took a deep breath, threw in the powder and followed suit. As soon as he yelled "The Burrow!" he started spinning around really fast. He instinctively pulled his arms in tight, which only made the spinning seem faster. After a few short moments but what he felt was long minutes, he was ejected out of the fireplace at a great velocity. 

His eyes were closed, he was horizontal, and something living was underneath him. It was a human sized living thing. Aaron opened his eyes to look at this human sized living thing that broke his fall. 

Aaron gasped. He had landed on one of the most handsome men he'd seen in a long time. He had long fire-red hair, which instantly told Aaron he was related to Percy, but he had a slight tan and a rugged look to his face. And those eyes. Those piercing baby blue eyes... 

"Hello." Aaron could feel the deep reverberations of this god's voice through their pressed together chests. 

"Um... Hi." 

"I'm Bill. I'd offer you my hand but it appears to be lodged between us." 

Aaron blushed slightly as he pulled himself up. 

"I'm embarrassed, er Aaron. Aaron Devlin." He said as he offered to help Bill up. Bill accepted and Aaron thought a jolt of electricity had shot through his entire body. But it felt good. Very good. He couldn't help but smile. He just hoped that he didn't look like a grinning idiot, cause he certainly was acting like one. 

Bill smiled warmly back at him. It was almost painful to let go of his firm grip, but he wasn't sure how Bill might react to not getting his hand back. 

"Mr. Devlin," Percy had touched Aaron on the shoulder to get his attention, "Why don't you come into the front room and sit down. Professor Dumbledore is currently speaking to Professor McGonagall but he will be with you in a few moments." 

"Sure," Aaron didn't object. He would have loved to continue to stare at Bill and his handsome physique but didn't dare for fear of his own body betraying him. 

* * *

"This is quite odd, indeed, but not entirely unheard of." Professor Dumbledore looked at the letter that Professor McGonagall had given him. "And considering who this is, I am not surprised really." 

"Professor?" McGonagall was obviously confused. 

"This young gentleman was never dead to begin with. If I am not mistaken, his grandfather performed the Fidelius charm for him. That would explain why the scroll thought he was dead. It could not find him, which means that now, either his secret keeper has passed away or has willingly given up the secret. Knowing Claudius Bergstead's paranoia, he would have used himself as secret keeper. I doubt that he would willingly give up the secret without a very good reason." 

"But why would the quill write out the letter? The boy must be fifteen years old now." 

"He is still young enough to teach, Minerva." Albus replied softly so as not to disturb the sleeping Harry, "He will have to begin as a first year. There are no exceptions to that, I am afraid. That alone may keep him from accepting. Send the letter and then look into his family situation. If his caretakers are muggles, I want to be sure they can be trusted." 

Albus' voice had a definite edge as he looked upon Harry. 

* * *

Aaron walked into the front room and had to blink several times to make sure his vision hadn't gone. He saw lots of red hair about the front room. Each person looking remarkably like their relatives but unique in their own way. Except for the twin boys. Aaron had to shake his head when he saw those two. 

"Yes, those two are quite hard on the eyes but what can you do, they're family." Percy joked at Aaron's double take. 

Aaron gave Percy a quizzical look, "Are you sure this isn't Grand Wizard Station?" 

Percy shrugged, "It's just The Burrow." 

He met each of the Weasley children in turn, and for some reason wasn't surprised to hear that there was one of theirs missing, currently in Romania studying dragons. 

The talk was light and forced. Aaron could all see that they were very upset about what had happened to Harry. They were also upset because the adults hadn't been forthcoming with all the details. Aaron wasn't sure he wanted to know. It wasn't that he didn't care; only that he'd seen his share of abused people in his life. 

He also noticed that Bill and his parents were trying to keep the conversation as far away from that subject as possible. When he saw an opportunity to help out in that respect he would interject a comment or two, prompting a slew of questions about himself. Aaron was a little self-conscious about revealing his past to these strangers, but it seemed important to do so, and he mentioned nothing about his previous stint at Hogwarts, just his Muggle life. It fascinated Arthur to no end and Molly traded cleaning secrets, cooking tricks and craft ideas with him. 

"And it really works? I'll have to try that sometime. We can make a stain removing potion that is very effective, but the ingredients can be quite expensive." 

"Well it works most of the time. Often enough to consider it." 

At that moment, Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore stepped out of the master bedroom. Almost instantly they were assaulted with questions from practically all the younger members of the Weasley clan. Albus held up a hand and they silenced themselves quickly. Aaron couldn't help but be amused. Even in their own house, he commanded their respect. He ducked into the kitchen while the rest were paying attention to the Headmaster. 

"Harry will be just fine in a few days. The potion that Molly has prepared is working much better than I expected and most of the visible bruising is gone. But he is still not well and at the risk of sounding a little too much like Madam Pomfrey, he needs his rest. 

"He is asleep for now. He will probably wake up sometime this evening. I will not prohibit you from visiting him but I must insist that you keep your visits short." 

The Weasley's all nodded their assent to Dumbledore's instructions. Albus nodded to Professor McGonagall and she Disapparated with a pop. Albus walked into the kitchen, knowing that Aaron had separated himself so that they could talk in private. 

"Good afternoon, Professor." Aaron said passively. His anger with the Headmaster had slowly been returning, but the old man had been through a lot today, and Aaron wasn't the type to kick a man when he's down. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Devlin." Albus replied, keeping eye contact with him, "I am glad you came." 

"Well I had nothing better to do, and I felt it was about time I had a decent vacation. Though to tell the truth, the fact that it's on your tab is really the only reason I'm here." 

"Then you have made up your mind?" Dumbledore looked disapprovingly at Aaron. 

"No, I haven't as a matter of fact. I thought I had but then I remembered how hard it was for me. To confuse the matter further, Percy told me something that I had never really thought of. The type of specialist that you need isn't found in the wizarding world. That really struck a cord with me. 

"At first I wanted to shout out 'Why the hell not?' but then common sense prevailed. People like me don't exist in your world." 

"Not yet." Dumbledore walked over to a chair and sat, "But with your help, that will change." 

"No," Aaron narrowed his eyes in anger, "It won't, and you damn well know it. People like this new student of yours and myself are less than human in the wizarding world. It's bad enough that muggles are treated with derision. I was loathed and despised just for existing. And in my own Household! At least in the muggle world I am human. Odd, maybe, but still human." 

"You still blame me for what happened twenty years ago?" Dumbledore looked and sounded every year of his existence. 

"I used to, but not anymore. I eventually came to realize that you weren't directly responsible." Aaron glared hard into the old professor's eyes, "No, I don't blame you for my parents death. I blame you for filling my head with noble ideals that only your precious Gryffindors would follow and even then only when you or McGonagall were around to enforce it. I blame you for not bothering to warn my parents or I about what was out there. I blame you for not warning me what exactly I was getting into. I blame you for telling me that everything would be just fine. But worst of all, I blame _myself_ for believing you." 

Dumbledore breathed in deeply. Aaron's words stung, filling him with anger, frustration, remorse and sadness. 

"You misjudge me, Mr. Devlin." Albus kept his voice calm but gave Aaron a steeled glare, "I did everything I could to protect you and your parents. Unfortunately, as Professor McGonagall was only to quick to remind me of this morning, I am still only human. I could not have predicted nor prevented your parents murders as much as I could not have predicted or prevented you leaving Hogwarts." 

Aaron snorted and then turned away. Albus sighed even further, his frustration becoming more evident. 

"And look what became of that," he muttered, "You are more obstinate than ever!" 

"That's because I've had twenty years to think about it," Aaron said, still not facing him, "How many of those years did you think about it, Professor, or did you just go out and find yourself a new charity case?" 

Albus couldn't beleive what he had just heard. He could only stare at Aaron, shocked and speechless. Aaron did not look back. 

"It sounds to me, Professor Dumbledore, that it is you who has misjudged me. More accurately, underestimated me." 

"It would appear that I have." Albus managed to find his voice. He was about to say more but Aaron interrupted him. 

"Twenty years, Professor. That's a long time to brood." Aaron's facial expression had softened, as did his voice as he turned to face the headmaster, "Far too long, I'll admit. I won't lie to you, I still hold serious resentment towards you. Hell, the word 'bitter' would be an understatement, but I am willing to hear your plan. If you can prove to me that you've done everything within your capability to prevent history from repeating itself," he sighed heavily, "then I would have no choice but to accept." 

"You will always have a choice, Aaron." 

"Maybe, but the alternative would be to let a child go through unnecessary hardship, or worse. I would be guilty of most everything that I accused you of. Worse yet, I'd be a hypocrite." Aaron added with a pained grin, "I don't like the sound of that." 

"I am glad to hear that," Dumbledore said with a soft smile of his own, "Your duty would be that of a tutor and mentor. Someone he can relate to. I realize the age difference may cause some difficulty, but I am hoping that you will both be able to work around that. You will also attend his classes with him. I would like for him to do as much without your help as possible. After all, the point is for him to learn." 

"That sounds reasonable. The teachers are aware of his situation?" 

"Most of them are and have already come up with some ideas that may make things easier on everyone. I would also like you to work with them in that regard as well. You will be teaching us as we teach him." 

"I can accept that as well, though I must admit, I've never done this before." 

"Not true, Aaron. You have just never been on this side of the desk. You have more experience than we do, and that in itself is priceless." 

"Okay." Aaron grew serious again, "So far you've got me hooked, but here's where you either reel me in or lose me for good. I haven't kept myself completely out of the loop. I had heard about You-Know-Who's downfall, but I have also heard rumors that he's back. I want to know, is this true?" 

Albus paused for a moment, deciding on what exactly to say. 

"It is true. The Ministry denies it, but it is true. Harry Potter, the boy who is now healing from injuries inflicted by his uncle, was there to witness his revival." 

Aaron paled slightly, but he kept his voice calm, almost, "Here is my demand. You will tell this new student about him. You will tell his parents about him. You will tell them about what dangers they face for being this boy's parents. I will not stand by and let what happened to me, happen to him." 

Dumbledore slowly shook his head, "I do not think it would be appropriate for me to tell them this-" 

"Then the answer is no." 

"-_however_, I don't see any logical reason why you can not. In fact, I think that everyone would benefit if you did explain it to them. It would help build a rapport between you and the student." 

Aaron stood silent for a moment. Then he nodded. 

"Then I _grudgingly_ accept your offer. I do not need to go back to the States for anything. I can have my landlord send all my personal items over. I was subletting so none of the furniture was mine anyway. My living needs are small and I won't need you to do anything special. As for payment, well I trust that you will make it a fair wage. Does that about cover everything?" 

"That it does," Dumbledore stood and offered his hand. Aaron paused for a moment, and then shook it quickly. "Are you willing to meet with the boy and his parents today? The sooner they get to know you, the better." 

"Absolutely. Oh, I just remembered, will I be moving into Hogwarts immediately or staying out my reservation at the Leaky Caldron?" 

"I will have your things brought over to Hogwarts. Argus Filch will have your room ready by the time you return. Arthur Weasley has already met the boy's parents so he will escort you." 

"Very well. Until this evening, Professor." Aaron bowed slightly before he headed for the door. 

"Until this evening, Mr. Devlin." 

* * *

Aaron Devlin and Arthur Weasley exited the Ministry vehicle. Aaron looked around at the neighborhood and felt a pang of mourning for his parents once more. They had lived in a neighborhood similar to this one. But he didn't let it last. He was here to do a job, and he wanted to be in top form. 

He had let his earlier spell lapse once he'd finished speaking with Dumbledore. Though it had been amusing to hear Dumbledore's loss for words, he had held it far longer than he should have. But that was over an hour ago and now his head was clear. 

Arthur led him up the path and rang the doorbell. He smiled with childish delight at the muggle electrical device. Aaron couldn't help but smile as well. 

The door opened and a well-developed man with short brown hair greeted them. Arthur knew this man to be the boy's father. 

"Ah, Mr. Weasley," He said with obvious delight and a bit of relief as he invited them in, "We had wondered when you would be coming back. Kim was getting very nervous. It's almost September first and we haven't gotten his school supplies yet." 

"Yes, I must apologize for that, but we have been quite busy at the Ministry lately. Mr. Vermont, I would like to introduce to you Aaron Devlin. Aaron was hired on specifically to assist your son's education while at Hogwarts." 

"Mr. Devlin, good to meet you." Mr. Vermont extended his hand, which Aaron gladly accepted. "James Vermont, let me go get my son so you can meet him." 

James wandered off into the depths of the house, looking for his son, taking a quick detour to inform his wife of their guests. Athena soon brought out some refreshments, which both Mr. Weasley and Aaron accepted. Soon they could feel as much as hear thumping down the stairs, and none to soon after it had started, a young boy with hair the same color of his father's had appeared, grinning from ear to ear. He was a bit taken aback by the presence of Aaron, but his excitement rapidly overcame that and he offered his hand to Mr. Weasley. 

"Ah, young Kim. I want you to meet some one special. He is a special tutor for you while you are at Hogwarts." 

Kim looked at him confused. Why would he need a special tutor? He was just as smart as other kids. The other man waved to get his attention, he then formed shapes and figures in his hands. He knew sign language! 

[Good afternoon, Kim. My name is Aaron Devlin. I don't think tutor is entirely accurate though I will occasionally be doing that for you when you need it. My job is to help teach you magic. One of the challenges you will face in becoming a wizard is the ability to cast spells. Mr. Weasley told me that he showed you a spell when he first met you. Do you remember everything that he did?] 

Kim signed back, [He waved his wand and the coaster was as good as new.] 

[Did he do anything else when he waved his wand?] 

Kim blushed slightly, [I don't remember, I was a little scared.] 

Aaron smiled warmly, [That's understandable. Well when he cast that spell, he also said a word to help him cast it.] 

It took Kim a few seconds to fully realize what Aaron was saying. [But I can't hear or talk! How am I going to do magic if I can't talk?] 

Aaron quickly signed back, [That's why they hired me. I will help you overcome that problem. I have to warn you though, it is much more difficult to cast a spell without words than it is with words. You will have to work twice as hard as your fellow students in some areas. But there is a good side. 

[Even though it will be difficult, once you have properly learned a spell, you will be able to cast it a lot faster than the others will. There are other long-term benefits as well but to truly make use of those would require decades of study and practice.] 

Kim seemed to accept that, but then something struck him as odd, [How come you can teach me this and the other teachers can't?] 

Aaron smiled, [Because like you, I can't hear. And when I was your age, I couldn't talk very well.] 

Kim paused a moment to digest all this information. His parents were "watching" their conversation and his mother was doing an ongoing dialogue for Mr. Weasley's benefit. Kim shrugged. 

[Well, as long as it will help me to become a wizard, then I won't complain.] 

[I'm glad. Now I have a few things that I need to discuss in private with your parents. However, Mr. Weasley has expressed interest in learning a few signs. Would you be willing to show Mr. Weasley the basics so he doesn't look so lost next time?" 

Mr. Weasley was obviously amused when Kim's mother translated for him and nodded his willingness. Kim knew that the only reason he was asked to leave the room was so he couldn't "accidentally" read their lips. Not that it mattered, he wasn't very good at it yet, but it was usually an adult thing and he had no interest in that. He nodded eagerly and drug Mr. Weasley off into the kitchen. 

Aaron smiled as the two left the living room. The boy's parents were looking at him expectantly, so he decided not to beat around the bush. He signed and spoke simultaneously. He explained everything about Voldemort, including his downfall and alleged revival. They were obviously very shaken by the time he was finished. 

"Now I didn't tell you this to frighten you or make you want to go into hiding, and the odds are it might not happen, but I won't lie to you. If Kim attends Hogwarts, there is the possibility that you will become targets." 

"How do you know this?" Athena asked nervously. 

"Because it happened to me. My parents were murdered by one of Voldemort's followers. I wasn't the only one that year who lost his parents, several muggle-born children did. But as a calling card, so that I would know that I would never be accepted as a wizard to them, they had..." Aaron's chest had tightened in grief. His eyes watered slightly and he tried to regain his breath, "They had cut off my parents ears." 

Athena gasped. James looked sick. 

"Why are you telling us this?" James choked. 

"Because you should know what could happen. Your son has a remarkable gift. If properly trained, he could do a world of good. But there is a risk. It would not be fair to you or him to try and hide it." 

"And you plan to tell our son all this?" Athena snapped. 

Aaron shook his head, "No, I won't. That's not my place. I would hope you could find a way to explain it without the gory details. But if you do, it'd better be before September first. Once he's at Hogwarts, he'll find out about these things eventually. It's probably best if he heard it from you." 

James looked at Athena and she nodded. 

"We will. Not today, but we will." 


	4. The woes of wizard

Fan fiction: Harry Potter 

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental. 

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned. 

AN: This is a revised version of the story. It is not complete and though I am working on completing it, I have many other things of higher priority (like school) that I must do first. Please read & review. 

* * *

Simon Bergstead sighed for what seemed to be the millionth time that day. He was having a bad summer. He had not been back in England for a week before he was told he was being swifted away to see his Grandfather. The visit had been pleasant enough, but the old man looked tired and withered. Simon knew he wouldn't be living much longer. 

His grandfather knew, too, and had given him a letter to be opened on the very day that he had died. He had said it was very important, and that only he was to read it. Not even his foster parents were to see it until he had read it first. 

This struck as rather odd to Simon, especially as Claudius had said this right in front of them. They must've already known what was inside it, because not the slightest bit of curiosity had crossed their face when he said this. Nor had they objected. 

Now it was weeks later. His grandfather had died peacefully in his sleep. Simon read the letter the moment he found out. If his grandfather dying hadn't caused him to cry, the letter did. It had told him how his real parents were killed. Something he was never allowed to know. 

The letter read: 

My dear grandson, 

If you have followed my instructions properly, I will have passed on by the time that you read this. Unfortunately, that means your life will become very complicated in the next few months. I will try to explain as best I can. I know what your thinking, why didn't I do this while I was still alive? Well there are a few reasons, some of which I will explain later. But alas, my dear Simon, I must admit that the strongest reason for me to wait was cowardice. I was afraid, am afraid, of how you would react. 

First, let me start by telling you about your parents. They were wonderful people. Kind, compassionate, caring, and most of all, fair. They fought for what they believed in. They were wonderful people. It is because they fought for good and decency, that they are not with you now. 

I know you've been told they were killed in a house fire. This is only partly true. A man named Voldemort murdered them, perhaps not directly, but on his order. The house fire was only a cover up to keep the police from investigating. How do I know all this? Well I was the one who found your parents, lifeless in their own house, the dark mark hanging over it like an ominous beast looming over its prey. 

I was the one who started the fire. I knew that if the police found your parents as they were, too many questions would be asked. Questions that would put them in danger, as well as you. 

You see my dear Simon, you and I are different from most people as you know them. We are wizards. We can cast spells and perform magical feats. Our kind harkens back to Merlin himself, the greatest wizard of all time. 

Your foster parents are what we wizards call muggles. They cannot perform magic, at least not the way we can. Of the entire world's population, wizards comprise of less than half of one percent. That's a lot to be sure, but nothing compared to the Muggles. As such, we keep to ourselves. 

I know this may sound like and old man's ramblings and that this is very hard to believe, but you must. Your future depends on it. Ask your foster parents about it, they will confirm this. They were close friends of your mother's when she was young and have been ever since. They found out about us by accident but have kept our secret. They are truly loyal and I know they love you as much as your parents did. 

I know this is a lot to take in, but it is imperative that you learn as much as you can for your own safety. For now that I am gone, the spell that has been protecting you for these fourteen years will soon begin to fade. It is old and powerful magic, but it requires a living soul to perpetuate it, and I am no more. 

I pray that you will forgive me for the lies. But I was being selfish. You are the last Bergstead. I mourned for my son all these years, but more so, I mourned for his son, whom I've had to deceive for as long. Please forgive me. 

Your loving grandfather, Claudius Bergstead. 

Simon had gone to his foster parents, and with tears, they had told him that it was the truth. They even showed him an old photo album, in which the pictures moved. It was a lot for Simon to take in. 

Dinner that evening was ate in silence. Simon didn't feel like talking and his parents were at a loss for words. It soon became unbearable for Simon. 

"I don't blame you," he blurted out. 

His foster father looked at him questioningly. 

"I don't blame either of you," Simon said again, not able to look up from his plate, "I don't even blame Grandfather. You did what you thought was right." 

"But do you believe it was right?" his father asked him warmly. 

"I-," Simon couldn't find the words, "I don't know. Not yet. But I don't blame you." 

His mother sighed, "We love you very much, Simon, and we loved your parents very much. It was devastating for us to hear about what happened to them. When Claudius asked us to take you in we didn't even have to think twice." 

"I know, mum. I know." 

It was at that moment that a tapping was heard at the window. All three looked over only to see an owl perched on their planter. It had a letter attached to its leg. Simon's father opened the window and the owl flew in and landed right in front of Simon. The letter was for him. 

Mr. S. Bergstead   
The North Bedroom   
9 Privet Drive   
Little Whining, Surrey 

The writing was in a shimmering emerald green. On the back, the letter was sealed with wax. A crest with the letter 'H' was used to seal it. 

"What's this?" Simon asked as the owl flew out the window again. 

"It is how wizards mail each other." his mother explained, "Whenever your mum and dad went on a holiday, they would send us postcards by owl. Some of the places they went to didn't have a regular post office. I suspect that that is a letter from another wizard." 

"Open it." his father said with a hint of excitement. 

Simon opened the letter carefully, not being used to wax sealed envelopes. He pulled out two sheets of what looked and felt like parchment. He read the letter with shaking hands. If this was indeed from a wizard, then who knows what will happen. 

"Dear Mr. Bergstead, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry." 

"Oh wonderful!" his mother exclaimed, absolutely beaming, "Claudius said that you didn't get your acceptance letter before because you were hidden by a spell that he performed, but he told us that if the spell were broken or if he had died while you were young enough, that you would still have the chance to go. Your parents went to school there. That's where they learned magic. It's where Claudius learned as well." 

"But, mum, I've already gone through secondary. I'm in university." 

"As bright as you are, son, this is something entirely different," his father sat next to him, "They don't teach you math or spelling. They will teach you how to cast spells, transfigure things into something else, all sorts of magic. It's not like anything you're used to." 

"But what about university?" Simon said, looking a little dejected. 

"Aren't you the one always complaining how everyone treats you different because you're so young?" his mother asked, "I mean, fifteen years old and you've finished one year of university with the highest marks of your year. University will still be there when you've graduated Hogwarts." 

"True, but it says here that I will start as a first year. I'm four years behind. How do you think I'll be treated then?" Simon said dryly, knowing full well that kids are the same no matter where the come from. If your too smart, you're an outcast, and if you're too far behind, or too dumb, your an outcast. 

"Well I think that you are one of the smartest people in the country. Smarter than your parents even. And that's saying something!" his mum held onto his hand, "If anyone can manage to learn seven years of magic in only three years, it's you." 

"The choice is yours, son. We won't force you. But know that this is what your parents and Claudius always wanted for you. It's what we wanted for you, too." 

Simon sighed, "I'll think about it, but I can't promise anything." 

* * *

Simon lay in bed, pondering everything that had happened that week. His natural grandfather had died, and along with him, everything that Simon had known to be real. It was a lot to take in. 

He didn't blame his foster parents for not telling him about everything. In fact, when he thought about it logically, he could understand why they didn't. But logical thinking didn't make the emotion hurt any less. He didn't blame his grandfather for keeping everything from him either. After looking through some of the old man's things that had been left for him, he realized why. 

There were old copies of a newspaper called The Daily Prophet, obviously a wizard's newspaper because the pictures moved. They had articles about an evil wizard, "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." That must've been this Voldemort that his grandfather had mentioned. The articles talked about all the horrid and evil things Voldemort was to have done. 

Simon shuddered. He knew that there were a lot of bad people in the world, but he'd lived a rather sheltered life. He almost didn't want to go to Hogwarts. He'd have to start as a first year and although he personally didn't have a problem with that, he didn't want to once again be the odd one. A fifteen year old doing work that was supposed to be for an eleven year old. He knew that he would instantly be the object of everyone's ridicule. 

He was no stranger to ridicule. He graduated secondary school when he was thirteen, and he was already on his way to making the dean's list at his university. He had the top grades out of his entire year and that was saying something considering his competition. He had a few friends at the university but they were far and few between. Add the fact that he was very young and it made for an extremely non-existent social life. 

Even most of the professors looked at him with derision. 

Tears rolled silently down Simon's cheeks. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Go back to University and suffer another grueling year where his only solace was his work, or start anew at this school for magic, of which he knew nothing about and would already be four years behind. 

The tears, started by his fears of what was to come were suddenly fueled by his grief for his grandfather that he barely knew, and parents that he never knew. He sobbed in frustration. He didn't know what to do. 

There was a quiet knock on his door and it opened slowly. Simon turned away from his foster father, ashamed that he was crying. His father sat down on his bed and placed his hand on Simon's are comfortingly. 

"I won't pretend to know what you're feeling, Simon," he said gently, "But your mother and I will try to be there for you when you need us." 

"I know," Simon said through sobs, "but it's hard. I get two letters and my whole life is turned upside down. I don't know what to do. I'm scared." 

Simon felt his father lie down behind him and put his arms around him. His parents were friendly and loving, but it was not common for them to be very physical. Now his father was comforting him. It felt good and Simon let himself melt into his father's arms as he cried even harder. His father just held and comforted him until he had cried himself to sleep. 

* * *

That evening's dinner was unusually quiet, even with the extra guests. Perhaps it was because Professor Dumbledore was there with them, mainly to make sure that Harry would be okay when he woke up. Or perhaps it was because Harry had been so badly hurt and everyone was just worried. Maybe even a little of both. 

Bill shook his head clear. It wouldn't do to dwell on the why, but it sure couldn't hurt to think about how to fix it. The only problem was he was too depressed to think of anything. He picked at his Shepard's pie, not really hungry. 

George and Fred seemed to be involved in some sort of twinly psychic conversation with each other, because they would occasionally make half a sentence and throw a look at one of the others sitting at the table and then both of them would stifle snorts and sniggers. What surprised Bill was that most of them were directed at him and not their usual victim, Percy. 

Ginny was absolutely silent and if asked a question, she would just make some gesture of response. Percy was speaking with their father about things at the Ministry; only he wasn't trying to make himself sound as important as he usually does. Ron seemed as distracted as anyone but was at least participating in some of the conversations. 

Molly was a bit more talkative than usual, taking it upon herself to make sure there was a conversation to keep everyone distracted with. Bill smiled at her as she was talking about a new recipe in _Witch's Weekly_ that she was eager to try. 

"And it's supposed to be very easy to make, although a bit messy. Perhaps I'll try that trick Mr. Devlin told us about. He seemed to be quite knowledgeable about cleaning things. One wonders if he didn't have children of his own." 

"Well no offense to him, Mum, but I think it would be a bit difficult for a man in his situation to raise a child by himself." Percy answered with an air of knowing, "And he said he wasn't married. He's just a janitor." 

"Ah, Young Mr. Weasley," Albus interjected patiently, "If there is one thing that cannot be said about Aaron Devlin, it is that he is 'just' anything. He is a simple man by nature, to be sure, but even the simplest of men can and often do surprise you. I re-learned that lesson this very afternoon when I spoke with him." 

"That's true, Professor," Percy replied, "You do know Mr. Devlin a lot better than I do, but to play devil's advocate, sometimes a rock is just a rock. He even admitted to me that he was the wrong person to bring in. If it weren't for the fact that there are no known wizards who know sign language much less trained interpreters, we wouldn't even be considering him, would we?" 

"If there were such wizards, I would still consider him. He has experience." 

"With all do respect, sir, experience is one of the best teachers, I'll grant you, but a teacher isn't born from experience alone. Ouch!" 

Fred had kicked his older brother under the table and was now trying not to glare at him. 

"Quite right, Mr. Weasley," Albus said with a twinkle in his eye, "but we have little choice at this time. I'm just glad that Mr. Devlin was willing to hear me out." 

George snickered at that comment. Molly scowled, Arthur looked stern, Percy was scandalized and Bill threw a kick across from under the table. George's smile vanished. 

"Sorry, Professor." 

"Quite alright, George." Professor Dumbledore looked very amused, "I am quite certain Mr. Devlin would have found that comment humorous as well. He is quite adamant about certain things concerning his lack of hearing, mostly keeping direct eye contact when speaking to him, but if I remember correctly, he once told me that to him it was not a handicap, but a major inconvenience. Like most Hufflepuffs, he works around inconvenience. And he has quite the sense of humor if I remember correctly." 

"See, and here you had to go and kick me." George complained to his eldest brother, his grin slowly returning, only more viciously, "So I take it that you've taken a liking to Mr. Devlin? He's certainly taken a liking to you." 

Bill raised one eyebrow at his sibling, still trying to build up his appetite by stabbing his food with the fork. 

"Oh come on, you didn't notice?" Fred answered for his twin. "He was certainly giving you the eye, wasn't he George?" 

"Both of them every moment he could get away with. Had a nice big smile every time you had something to say." 

"In case you two haven't heard, Mr. Devlin is deaf." Percy interjected haughtily. 

Albus quickly and deftly moved his napkin to his face to hide the smile that he had suddenly sprouted and was having great difficulty in suppressing. Only he was aware that Aaron could use a spell to hear and most likely had used it before meeting with Percy. That meant that Aaron had heard every word they had said that afternoon. 

"As if that made a difference. The moment Bill even looked like he might have something to say he turned his eyes on him. And his face would become flush every time you looked at him, Bill." 

"You would too, George, if you had landed on a complete stranger after flooing in." Percy added. Big mistake. 

"He landed on you?" Fred raised his voice, "Oh man no wonder he's sprung. He must've gotten lost in those baby blue eyes of your, Bill." 

George, Ron and Ginny all stifled snickers as Bill's ears went as red as his hair. Even Percy, Arthur, Molly and even Albus couldn't help but smile at that comment. Bill's eyes were often said by many women (and some men though not to loudly) to be Bill's most attractive feature, and that was saying a lot. 

"Now boys, that's enough," Mr. Weasley interrupted, smile still present but much more subdued, "We don't know Mr. Devlin very well and it's not fair or appropriate to make such assumptions. Remember that the wizarding world doesn't yet accept things like that. A shameful thing, but a reality nonetheless. Let's not cause this gentleman any unnecessary attention." 

"Will Mr. Devlin be staying in the same house as the new student?" Fred asked, swallowing a bit of mashed potato quickly as his mother glared at him for almost being impolite. 

"No, he will stay in the professor's wing. It was decided that the new student would better learn socialization skills if he didn't have to rely on his interpreter as a crutch. The students in his house would also benefit. It would teach valuable communication skills." 

"Wow. I wonder if he'll be in Gryffindor." Ron pondered. 

"Well we will not know until the sorting ceremony." Dumbledore said passively followed soon by a mouthful of Shepard's pie. "This is most scrumptious, Molly." 

Mrs. Weasley's ears turned red at the compliment. "Thank you, Professor." 

"Oh, that reminds me, mum. I have a message from an old friend of mine. He says hello and he misses your mince pies." Bill said swallowing a healthy bite, his appetite found. 

"Oh? Who dear? Was it that fellow who got hit with that curse at the Tanis dig?" 

"No mum, it was the guy who had the run in with those Slytherins that one day way back when." Bill said carefully. It wasn't a lie, but he didn't want to let his brothers know that he was also a Slytherin. Molly seemed to catch on quickly. 

"Oh him! Oh how lovely. You must tell him to try and write me. I'd love to send him a few." 

"I think I'll be seeing him a bit more frequently at my new assignment. I'll be sure to pass that along." 

"New assignment? I thought it would take at least another four years to complete your current dig." Mr. Weasley commented as he served himself up some dessert. 

"Well it will, but I've been taken off that dig for now." 

The whole table excluding Molly and Albus stopped what they were doing and all looked at Bill with shock on their faces. 

"You're not going to get fired are you?" Percy asked what everyone else had been thinking. It was a general practice of the goblins to not move their people around on projects until they were finished or unless something was seriously wrong, usually in the case of someone being fired. 

"No, not at all. They're quite happy with my work, really, but a big project came up and I convinced them to let me take a year off." 

"A year?" Ron said disbelievingly, "No way. They'd never go for it, even if you were a goblin." 

"Well they did go for it. I admit, they weren't happy about it, and well probably still aren't happy about it, but my new boss for the time being is quite convincing when he wants to be." Bill shot Dumbledore a brief sideways glance. He got a smile in return. 

"Wait a minute. You're going to be working at Hogwarts?" Fred asked, eager to hear the affirmative 

"That I am, Fred." Bill grinned cheekily, "You are addressing your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." 

"Yes!" Both Fred and George said at the same time. Ginny seemed pleased but still said nothing. Ron didn't say anything at all. He just looked a little disappointed but tried not to show it. 

"Now hold on you two." Bill was quick to slap down their planned coup de tat, "Don't think for one second that I will put up with your cheek or troublemaking. I know your pranks, firsthand in many cases. I'm not going to go any easier on you just because you're my brothers. If anything, I'll be harder on you two for that very reason." 

"What?" George exclaimed. 

"You're kidding!" Fred added. 

"That's just not fair!" They said in unison. 

"No it isn't, but life isn't always fair." Bill admonished. "Besides, you could do your older brother a favor by not pulling any stunts. I'm going to have a hard enough time as it is without you two. I can just imagine how the Slytherins are going to react." 

"Oh no." Ron dropped his head onto the table as he groaned. "Malfoy's going to have a field day with this." 

"He's no longer a Governor of Hogwarts, Ron, he doesn't have any say in the matter." Bill replied. 

"No, not that Malfoy. His son, Draco," Ron practically spat the name, "He was horrid at the end of last year, and now he'll take even more chances to make fun of me." 

"And you can't come up with anything to counter him? You might be a little thick sometimes, Ron, but you're not dumb. Just think up some things before hand and make sure they're appropriate to the situation." 

"You just don't get it, Bill. Now I'll have to listen him harp on about you, too. I can just hear him now. 'Hey Weasel, I see Gringotts finally got rid of your brother. Decide the temptation to steal might be too great, did they?'" Ron mimicked Draco fairly close, then dropped his head back on the table, speaking almost inaudibly, "I hate being poor." 

"You know, Ron," Bill said slightly hurt, "I normally don't give a damn what people think of me, and the Malfoys are certainly no exception to that, but you aren't. I do care about what you think of me, though, because you're family. And to be honest, Ron, it sounds like you don't think to much of me." 

Ron's head shot up instantly, a look of absolute horror on his face. He tried to protest but Bill continued. 

"And do you know what is really bunching my knickers right now? It's not that you might be disappointed in me, though that does hurt, but that you seem to think that the Malfoy's view on success is right on spot. That having lots of money to throw around like it was confetti is the only way to live and gain respect. 

"Well I can only tell you that respect isn't gained, it's earned." Bill rose from his seat at the table, tossing the napkin down a bit forcefully. "With all you've been through so far, I would have thought that you'd have learned that by now. I'm sorry that I don't live up to your expectations. I'm sorry that none of our family does. You're right, though, we're not even remotely rich. I scrimp and save and live off of the mediocre rations that Gringotts is willing to shell out for and right now I have barely enough saved to buy a tool shed to use as a home. 

"I doubt any of us will ever be rich, but we've always shared what we had, and we've always been there when things got rough. I pray to God you realise that we are really all you have. Better yet, all you really need. Now if I may be excused, I'm going to go check on Harry." 

He stalked out briskly without another word. Dumbledore stood shortly after. 

"I think I might need check on Harry as well. Please pardon me." And he too, left the kitchen. 

Ron just sat looking at Bill's empty chair. His face was as pale as Nearly Headless Nick's. The rest of the Weasleys sat just as quietly, not daring to speak. They were looking at one another trying to figure out what to do next. Ron cleared his throat lightly. 

"May I please be excused from the table?" He asked, his voice a low tenor, but still sounding as if he were only seven years old. 

Molly nodded, "Yes, dear." She added quietly. 

Ron got up from the table, and rather than head up to his room, he walked out the back door into the garden, disappearing quickly from sight. 

* * *

Harry didn't know where he was. He was in a bed, but not his own. It wasn't in the cupboard under the stairs either. It was a large bedroom, and he was in a large bed. Harry was reminded of the king sized bed that aunt and uncle slept in. 

Harry paused as his body screamed in pain at the memory of what his supposed uncle had done to him. He didn't have much time to worry about it before he fell unconscious once again. 

He awoke later that night. He guessed it was night because it was dark, but it could just have well been early morning. His body was in considerably less pain, even though he remembered what had happened to him. He tried to sit up, but found that he lacked the strength to do so. Rather than waste his energy on futile efforts to get up, he concentrated on his surroundings. 

It felt familiar to him. The decor certainly wasn't that of the house on Privet Drive. It seemed more like a medieval castle. And the smell was familiar, too. Not unpleasant at all. In fact he took comfort in it, for it reminded Harry of his best friends mum, Mrs. Weasley. 

His eyes shot open with great speed at the revelation. He was at the Burrow! Great relief washed over him but with that came a different fear, and embarrassment. He must look a site. And what an inconvenience for them to have to take him in. Harry felt bad for the Weasleys being forced to take him in. He only hoped that they wouldn't resent him like the Dursleys. 

In his mildly delirious state, Harry didn't notice someone enter the room. Not until a second person came in and started talking to the first. Harry kept quiet, half asleep and not wanting to disturb them. It was Bill Weasley and Professor Dumbledore. 

"I have seen the Weasley temper at its worst before, but what I find remarkable this time around is not necessarily the severity of your words, but at who they were directed to." 

"Believe it or not, Professor, we aren't the perfect happy family everyone thinks we are. We don't always get along." 

"Nor should you. I have never met a family who has. And I know quite a few, let me assure you." 

Harry didn't understand what exactly they were talking about, but it didn't sound like something he should interrupt. 

"Yes, yes, and now you're going to tell me what I should have done differently and then I can go and apologize to Ron and then we can all be one big happy family again, right?" 

"Do not get sarcastic with me, Mr. Weasley." Dumbledore's tone held a finality that reminded Harry of when he faced the fake Professor Moody, Barty Crouch Jr. "I am more than willing to listen and help, but I am not a convenient target for pent up or misplaced wrath." 

"I'm sorry, sir." 

Dumbledore seemed to accept this, because his voice was very caring and concerned. 

"Bill, I wanted you as the Defense professor for more reasons than your abilities as a charm breaker. One of them was your compassion for your fellows. The students, although younger than you, can still relate to you better than most adults. Truth be told, the long hair and earring helps with that." 

Harry heard Bill give a small chuckle of his own and mentally smiled himself. He had to agree, the earring and long hair made Bill look cool. 

"Another reason was specifically for Ron's sake. He needs to learn that he can only be more than what he is if he makes it himself. He has the unfortunate position of being in not one or two shadows, but five. Six if you count Harry. That puts him in a dangerous position. I am afraid that he might see the only way to being his own person is to betray all that he is. All that you and your family are." 

"My words didn't help matters, did they?" Bill said grudgingly. 

"In their own way, perhaps they did help, but it would probably be best if you talked it out with him. I am not saying you should apologize. Though it might have been a fair bit excessive, Ron needs to wake up. However, a hug from an older brother could also do wonders." 

Harry was quiet. He pondered everything he heard, just as Bill pondered his own actions. 

Bill sighed. "Well at least I know there's one pie out there that you can always make better than mum." 

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, clearly not following Bill's logic. 

"Yes," Bill said plainly, "Humble pie." 

Harry couldn't help but laugh, though it hurt him to do so. 

Both Bill and Dumbledore were at his side in an instant. Bill seemed very nervous, Dumbledore however, looked very calm and focused. 

"Harry, I'm glad to see that you are awake." the old professor looked down at him with twinkling eyes. Or was that glistening? 

"Sorry," Harry managed to say in a very groggy voice. 

"Whatever for?" 

"Eavsd-" He couldn't seem to finish it. 

"Well perhaps we could have chosen a more private location to speak, but I trust that whatever you heard between us will stay between us." 

Harry tried to nod, but he was so weak his head barely moved. 

"How bad?" he struggled to get out. 

Bill took a deep breath, and Harry went into near panic. 

"Not as bad as you might think, Harry." Dumbledore quickly noticed Harry's agitated state. "Your lack of strength would be attributed to the potion which I gave you. It is a very powerful healing potion, but one of the main ingredients is a very effective muscle relaxant. The effects tend to linger a bit after the potion has done its work, however you will not need anymore however, so it will wear of shortly." 

"It was Vernon" Harry muttered. If his voice hadn't carried the message, the look he gave Dumbledore did. Harry would never go back to his uncle ever again. 

"I know, Harry." Albus sighed heavily, "I know. You will stay with the Weasley's for the rest of the summer. We will worry about next year once the term has started. 

Harry's stomach growled in response, prompting a smile from both Dumbledore and Bill. 

"I'll have mum prep him something to eat. Then I think I'll have a chat with Ron." Bill said to Dumbledore. He smiled at Harry, and then ruffled his hair lightly in a brotherly sort of way. If Harry were physically capable of being overjoyed, he would have been, but as it was, he smiled and felt very warm inside. 

Then it was just he and Dumbledore. For once, it seemed that Dumbledore was at a complete loss for words. Harry knew why. The old professor thought he had failed. Harry might have felt that same way, but this was the same man who had always been there for him when he could. At the end of the Tri-Wizard tournament, even when he was force to relive the horrific events that night, he knew that Dumbledore was there for him, and doing what he knew to be best. 

"He never hit me up until this year." Harry seemed to find enough strength to talk. Perhaps the potion was now beginning to wear off. "I mean, I would get a spanking now and then. Always on the bum, with his hand. He never _beat_ me though." 

"Once is enough, Harry." 

"I know." Harry rolled his eyes at the thought, "Believe me, I know. But I didn't expect it. I never knew it was coming. No one did." Harry was rather pointed when he said that. 

Dumbledore got the hint and seemed to relax significantly. He smiled gratefully and held the boy's hand. Harry was just glad that he was once again safe. With a contented sigh, he drifted back into a light sleep. 

* * *

Ron sat in the garden, feeling heavily depressed. He was angry with Bill for pulling a guilt trip on him. He knew damn well what Ron was talking about. It was Bill who should be feeling guilty. He had to come back to Hogwarts to play the cool hero. Things were just beginning to come around for Ron. Though his fame at the Tri-Wizard championship was short lived, it was still his, and he had made a couple friends who were genuinely interested in him, not just because he was with Harry. 

And now Bill wanted to go and ruin it by being his teacher. Bill didn't understand how bad Malfoy was. He could never understand having had everything handed to him on a silver platter. And that was why Ron was angry with Bill. It was also the very reason Ron was depressed. He knew it was total bull. 

The truth was that Bill _was_ cool. And cool people don't intentionally go out of their way to cause other people problems. Ron was feeling very guilty about his offhanded comment. He hadn't meant to offend Bill, nor had he meant that he didn't appreciate his family, but Malfoy was just impossible. 

Ron pondered over the whole situation. Was Bill right? Was he really as shallow as Malfoy? Ron shuddered at the thought. He had to admit that recent events had made him wish he wasn't poor all the more. 

Ron buried his head between his knees. He'd been out here for a good half an hour and he still didn't feel like going inside. It was a warm night. Perhaps he'd just sleep out here. His mum would have a fit, but Ron was almost tempted. Since he was sharing a room with Bill tonight, he was _really_ tempted. 

He became even more tempted when he heard the back door shut behind him. He knew it was Bill. No one else would have bothered him. Everyone else knew that when he wanted to be alone, he meant alone. That's why Ron would always come out to the garden at night. 

For the few times that he needed to, he could run out into the acre or so past their lot into the light wood. There was a large tree that he would often hide in. It was no secret tree, but Ron was the only one who would dare to climb as high he did. Not even Fred or George would climb that high. 

Ron wished he had gone out to the tree as Bill sat down beside him. Ron kept his head between his knees, not even acknowledging his brothers presence. Bill sat there for a few minutes, also saying nothing. Finally, he wearied of the silent game. 

"I'm not going to apologize, Ron, but I didn't come out here to continue to harp on you." 

"And I suppose I'm supposed to apologize?" Ron couldn't help himself. He really did want to apologize, but his wounded pride had demanded revenge. 

"No." Bill replied evenly. 

After it was clear that Bill wasn't going to elaborate, Ron spoke, "So why are you out here?" 

"Because my brother is having a bad day. And it's my job, as his brother, older or otherwise, to be there when I can for him. Right now, I can, so I am here." 

Ron snorted, "Spare me the martyr crap, Bill. Why are you out here?" 

Bill blanched at that. 

"I was serious, Ron." Bill said, his voice full of hurt again, "Now will you please stop being a god damned prat and take me at face value for once?" 

Ron swore mentally. He kept saying the wrong thing and it wasn't getting any better. At least Bill hadn't left yet. But did Ron really want him to stay? After few moments of silence, Bill leaned over and placed his arms around Ron in a strong but gentle embrace. 

"I meant what I said, Ron. I don't know how or what I can do to make you feel better about our family. But you are family. You are my brother, and I will do my best to be there for you when I can. We won't always agree, and we may even get into the occasional row, but I love you, Ron. Nothing could change that." 

Ron said nothing, but he leaned into the hug just slightly. Enough to let Bill know that he was not completely shutting him out. This was all Bill could ask for right now. He knew that there was more to be done, but Ron needed time. Ron also needed his friend. 

"Harry is awake." Bill said after barely a minute, "I'm sure he would be happy to see you." 

Wasting not a second, Ron nearly bowled Bill over when he got up and raced to see his best friend. 


	5. Dried herbs and other things

Fan fiction: Harry Potter 

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental. 

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned. 

AN: This is a revised version of the story. It is not complete and though I am working on completing it, I have many other things of higher priority (like school) that I must do first. Please read & review. 

* * *

There was a tension at the Dursley house that night. Vernon had demanded absolutley no small talk. No discussion of any kind. Even Dudley was forbidden to complain about the television set. It became so unbearable that they all decided to go to bed early. 

As they eached changed into their nightclothes, none of them noticed the odd burning smell coming from the cupboard under the stairs. As they each crawled into their beds, none of them noticed the thick black smoke escaping from the crack under the door to the cupboard. As they each fell asleep, none of them noticed the furious red flames that quickly engulfed their home. 

As they each died silently at the flames burning touch, none of them noticed the strange artifact under the stairs as it's crystal went from blood red to water clear. 

* * *

Harry felt considerably better once the potion had worn off, but he was still a little weak from malnutrition. To help remedy this, he had a delicious bowl of creamed chicken soup. It was nice and thick, and quite tasty. Mrs. Weasley had easily conjured it up and added in a nutrition potion that Dumbledore had brewed. Harry felt considerably better after that. 

He was able to walk upstairs mostly under his own power, for which he was internally grateful. He had felt quite embarrassed about the whole situation as it was and was still a little red faced from when the whole Weasley family had burst in after he had first woke up. He didn't ask about how he got cleaned up and changed into pajamas. He wasn't sure if he could live that down, so it was better not knowing. 

He sat up a bit with Ron before bedtime. Ron seemed a bit apprehensive, as if speaking normally to Harry would somehow break him. Harry finally got tired of Ron walking around eggshells and threw a pillow at him. 

"Hey!" Ron exclaimed, a smile breaking on his face, "What was that for?" 

"That was because you're acting like I'm going to break if you talk to me normally. It's _me_, Harry. Remember?" 

Ron was tempted to throw the pillow back at him, but even though Harry said he was fine, Ron could see differently. But he did have a point. Harry wouldn't fall apart if he just talked to him. 

"I'm sorry, Harry," Ron's smile faded as the weight of the evening returned upon his shoulders, "It's just I'm not having the best of days. Bill and I are kind of having an argument right now." 

Harry was about to comment on bad days, but when Ron mentioned the argument, he saw that Ron's expression was extremely pained. And taking into consideration the conversation that he had overheard between Dumbledore and Bill, Harry thought it best to hear Ron out. 

"What's wrong?" 

"Well..." Ron wasn't sure if wanted to tell Harry everything he'd been feeling. Harry had just been through a major ordeal and this was just after he'd mostly recovered from the shock of Cedric's death. 

"Look, Ron," Harry managed to sound astonishingly like Hermione in that one moment, "I'm your friend. You can tell me." 

Ron sighed heavily. 

"It's just that... Well, I'm jealous of you." He said dropping his head down, not being able to look at Harry. He continued before Harry could interrupt, "I really do understand that you don't ask for or want all the attention you get, but I still wish it was me sometimes. I'm jealous of all my brothers. They have all distinguished themselves. 

"Charlie was the Quidditch player. Bill was Head Boy and is highly sought after by women everywhere. Percy was also Head Boy and could very well be the youngest director to ever serve for the Ministry. Even Fred and George are probably going to open up their joke shop despite what Mum says and I'll bet they'll be serious competition for Zonkos. I can't compete with all of that. I'll always be known as their little brother or your sidekick." 

"Now Bill is coming back to Hogwarts as our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. I'm going to have to compete with him once again. What's worse is that Malfoy will probably have a whole slew of insults to throw at me." Ron seemed to be babbling now, but Harry let him go on, knowing that it could help. 

"When I said that tonight at dinner, Bill got upset. He said that I didn't think too much of him or the rest of the family. That I thought Malfoy was right, that because we're poor we're not a proper family." 

Ron was trying very hard not to cry and doing a pretty good job of it, but Harry wasn't fooled for one second. 

"All I want is not get something second hand for once. I mean my wand is new, but I had Charlie's first. I just want to be able to walk into a room and have people say, 'Hey, there's Ron Weasley' rather than 'Hey, there's so and so's little brother' or 'Look, it's Harry potter's sidekick.' 

"I just want to be special for once." 

Harry was absolutely quiet. He wanted to reach out and grab Ron, hug him and tell him he was special, but he didn't know how Ron would react. Ron didn't know that Harry had developed a crush on him. Harry himself was still in shock about the revelation. The only problem was that he knew Ron didn't feel the same way. He knew that Ron had a serious crush on Hermione and more than likely she had one on Ron. 

Harry settled for the most diplomatic answer he could. He put his hand on Ron's shoulder gently. "You will be." 

Ron just nodded, wiping the hidden tears from his face, and then he crawled into bed. Harry curled up in his bed, but didn't fall asleep right away. He lay there quietly as Ron drifted off to sleep. He thought of all the things he and Ron had done together, along with some of the things he wanted to do together. But he knew that it would never happen. Ron was to stuck on Hermione, and even if he wasn't, Harry didn't think Ron liked boys. 

And that's what perplexed Harry. Why did he have a crush on Ron? He liked Cho, didn't he? Yes, he definitely liked Cho. That wasn't a dream, though after Cedric's death, it felt like it. But why did he suddenly find Ron so appealing? 

Harry suddenly realized that he had always felt like that about Ron. That was why he was so hurt when he thought Ron didn't believe him about not putting his name in the goblet of Fire last year. And it must've been the reason why he was chosen as Harry's hostage to rescue. "We've taken what you prize most." 

Harry sighed lightly. He wondered when he was going to have a good day again. 

* * *

Late in the evening, when Dumbledore returned from The Burrow, he went straight to his office. The first thing he did was toss his hat onto a coat rack. It landed perfectly on one of the hooks. 

He then waved his hand in the general direction of one of the wall panels. It slowly turned around to reveal a table with various bottles of spirits, and some glasses. Some of the portraits of the old headmasters (the ones who were awake that is) looked at Dumbledore disapprovingly. 

"Oh blow it out your socket, Dippet, you old crank." He said to one of the portraits who huffed to himself then went back to sleep. Dumbledore poured himself a stiff drink. He didn't gulp it down, but he sipped it slowly. Unlike most people who occasionally had a drink to relax, he knew that it was best to let the alcohol in slowly. Otherwise it just made one drunk quicker, and Dumbledore did not get drunk. 

"Well there was that one time after Grindelwald, but damned if I didn't deserve it." He muttered to himself remembering the extremely tough duel with the dark wizard. A duel that he barely made it out alive. 

As Albus sat down, he felt the room's aura waver. That meant that someone was coming. By the feel of the aura, it was a house elf, Dobby, to be specific. 

"Good evening, Dobby." The old headmaster said to the house elf. 

"Good evening, sir." Dobby said, no longer surprised that the professor always knew it was him. "Dobby has saved Professor some food in case he was hungry." 

"Ah thank you Dobby. That was very thoughtful of you. I am still a little stuffed though; I had eaten at The Burrow. Molly Weasley is quite a cook." 

"She is a wonderful mother, sir! She made Dobby's favorite sweater. Harry Potter's Wheezy gave it to him." 

"Yes, I should have recognized that." 

"Is Master Dumbledore okay, sir?" Dobby asked with trepidation. Albus Dumbledore was the only master that was ever kind to Dobby, but years of abuse by the Malfoys made it difficult for him to ask questions of his master, even when it was about his master's well being. 

"I wish that I could say yes, Dobby. I truly do." Albus said wistfully, "But alas, I am not. Not for the time being. But rest assured that I will be quite fine soon enough. Thank you for asking." 

"Is there anything Dobby can do for Master Dumbledore?" 

Albus paused for one moment, "Yes, there is. Can you please bring the new gentleman, Aaron Devlin up here? Remember that he cannot hear you so you will need to look him directly in the eyes when you speak to him." 

"Dobby will bring him right away, sir!" The house elf squeaked, then ran off into the numerous hidden tunnels that the house elves used. 

Ten minutes later, Dumbledore felt the aura waver again, only this time it was more dramatic. He recognized Dobby's presence along with another. He set himself to remember that particular waver for the future. That way he would always know when Aaron Devlin came to his office. 

A knock at the door officially announced Aaron's arrival. Dumbledore waved his hand and the door opened. He would have normally gotten up to answer it, but he was tired and old. Dobby bowed quickly then disappeared back down the spiral staircase as Aaron entered the office cautiously. 

"I will not bite, Mr. Devlin. Please have a seat." He motioned to one of the chairs sitting across the desk from him. 

"Thank you, sir." Aaron said respectfully as he sat, "You wished to see me?" 

"Yes, I wanted to know how your first meeting with young Mr. Vermont went." 

"Quite well, I think, sir." Aaron seemed to relax a bit, "He his very excited about learning magic. Far more than I remember ever being." 

"And you told him about your past? About what happened with Voldemort's Death Eaters?" 

"Not exactly," Aaron shifted uncomfortably as the memories returned to him. "I told his parents everything. I felt it would be best if they explained it to him. They know him and how well he'll be able to handle it. They agreed to tell him before September first, but my guess is that it will be before our trip to Diagon Alley next week." 

"You will be going with them to Diagon Alley?" Albus said as he rose to get another drink. "Oh, would you care for a nightcap?" 

Aaron had a look of shock on his face and couldn't seem to answer. Albus only laughed. 

"I _AM_ human, Mr. Devlin. I believe I told you that this morning. I don't drink often at all, but there are times when this old body needs a kick in the pants." He poured Aaron a glass of the Cognac. 

"S-still," Aaron managed to finally mutter, "It's quite an odd sight to see. You're the last person I'd..." 

"So who has misjudged who, Mr. Devlin?" Albus interrupted a bit forcefully, the tone of their previous conversation still fresh in his mind. Not that Aaron could hear it, but it was the principle of the matter. However, it was more forceful than he intended. He decided that he didn't need the second drink. 

Aaron, however, was still taken aback by the words he saw. "I guess we're both human," he said quietly as he sipped his cognac. 

Albus meandered back to his chair, sans drink, and sat down. "That we are, Mr. Devlin." 

They sat quietly for a brief moment when Aaron realized that he hadn't answered the professor's question. 

"And yes, I am going to Diagon Alley with him. I thought that he and his parents might like someone who had at least some experience with it to show them around, and I think Kim and I are starting to bond well. He needs someone he can communicate with that aren't his parents. He has too few friends in the muggle world as it is." 

"I can only hope that he will find some friends here," Dumbledore said tiredly, "Tell me, what house do you think he will be sorted into?" 

"Hard to say, sir. I was only here one year. But if I were to guess, I'd say Hufflepuff or Gryffindor." 

"An unusual choice, considering their differences." 

"Quite, but he works hard and he's eager to face the new challenges of being a wizard," Aaron explained his assessment, "He'll have twice the difficulty to learn half the material, but he's not phased. He's also rather unafraid, though he can become quite shy at times. Granted, I only talked with him for the afternoon. For all I know he could be put in Slytherin. I shudder at that thought." 

"Yes, a muggleborn in Slytherin is one thing, but a deaf one... However, it is not up to us, but the Sorting Hat." 

"You can't just tell it to put him in Hufflepuff?" 

"No, Mr. Devlin, I cannot. The hat is as old as Hogwarts. However, it is knowledgeable enough to take the situation into consideration. I doubt Mr. Vermont will be placed in Slytherin." 

Aaron only nodded, not entirely believing the old professor. The professor decided to change the subject slightly. 

"I had originally planned to hire you because you were the only wizard I knew that knew sign language." Dumbledore said frankly, "And to tell the truth, I thought by translating for Mr. Vermont, you might become interested in learning magic again. But it appears you have already learned a few things that we normally do not teach here." 

Aaron ducked his head away. Partly because of embarrassment, but also in part because he had managed to pull a fast one on Dumbledore. When his face had lost some of it's red tone, he returned his eyes to Dumbledore's. 

"I, uh, yeah, about that," Aaron said sheepishly, "For the first few years, I really did have nothing to do with magic. At least not intentionally. There were a few 'accidents' that eventually got me brought before the States' version of the Department for the Improper Use of Magic. They said that unless I wanted to face incarceration, I'd have to either attend a school or hire a private tutor. Either way, I had to pass a test by a specific time or face consequences. As it was, they had fined my uncle rather stiffly. 

"So faced with either school or prison, I chose school. Rather a private tutor. He was an odd one to say the least, but he knew his stuff. As you are probably aware, the American wizards associate more with muggles, and as it turned out, some of his muggle friends were deaf and he had learned sign language." 

"So you are a fully trained wizard, then?" Dumbledore asked, very amused by the turn of events. 

"Not remotely." Aaron answered quickly, "His job was to nostly teach me how to control my magic rather than how to use it. He did teach me quite a few spells but I know absolutely nothing about Transfiguration. I have learned a few things in potion making, but most of that was combined with muggle chemistry. All in all nothing that would warrant a diploma. And It was very hard since I had no wand." Aaron paused as they both remembered why he had no wand, "I refused to get another one." 

"What about that spell you used earlier?" Albus asked, hoping that they would not find themselves in another argument. 

Aaron smiled devilishly, "Promise not to turn me in?" 

Albus raised his eyebrow, very intrigued, and nodded. 

"Well," Aaron began explaining, "As I said, my instructor, Mr. Garrett, had friends who were deaf. Well... They kind of knew he was a wizard. You see, he had been secretly performing experimental charms on them and himself. To see if he could sort of fake the brain into thinking it could hear. 

"It was all voluntary of course, and his friends kept it quiet as well. I mean, if they just suddenly started hearing for no apparent reason... Well I'm sure you can figure out the repercussions of that. 

"He eventually let me in on the secret and taught me how to cast it on myself. It takes a great deal of effort, and is quite exausting on the subject's part. When it is self cast, I can control how long it stays in effect. Today was the longest I've ever been able to keep it up. I don't think I'll be casting it again anytime soon. My head is still throbbing." 

Albus was glowing with delight, "I really have underestimated you, Mr. Devlin. You have accomplished in a few years what many wizards fail to do in decades." 

"I don't understand," Aaron said. 

"Wandless magic is quite difficult to do with any accuracy. Usually it happens when someone is considerably upset, and then it's very haphazard and uncontrolled. More of stimulus response than of will. There are those, however, like myself, who have nearly mastered the art, but it has taken us decades to do so." 

Aaron was taken aback by this revelation, but was complimented by it nonetheless. "Well I wasn't trying to go for any new records, Professor, I assure you. I just didn't have much of a choice. As it is, I can mostly only cast simple spells and you are right, it's with not very good accuracy unless the spell is targeted at me directly." 

"But it is the fact that you can do it at all by concentrated will rather than a knee-jerk reaction that makes it special, Mr. Devlin. I just hope you will not try and teach it to Young Mr. Vermont. He is still quite young and inexperienced." Albus leaned forward a bit and gazed into Aaron, not too hard, but enough to make him slightly uncomfortable, "Which reminds me, Mr. Devlin, are there any other abilities that you have been keeping from me? Arthur Weasley mentioned something about you teaching the boy wordless spell casting. Something we tried during your enrollment if I remember correctly." 

Aaron returned the gaze with considerably less success, but it was just enough to get Dumbledore to release his. 

"Part of the problem with not being able to hear is the shared lack of ability to annunciate properly. I went to a speech therapist that specialized in deaf students. As you might have noticed since twenty years ago, my speech is considerably clearer, if a bit over pronounced. 

"But that wasn't until after I had completed my 'restraint education' as it were. As such, charms still remained my most difficult study. One of the things Mr. Garrett taught me was how to... sense the spell is the best word I can think of for it. Not only do I have to know exactly what I want to do, I also have to know how the words affect it. Once I recognized the effect of the words of a particular charm, I was able to emulate it in my mind. It was and is extremely difficult, and until my speech therapy, it was and pretty much still is the main reason why I only know very few spells and charms. 

Dumbledore leaned back and sized up his prodigal student. "And you are planning to teach Mr. Vermont this skill?" 

"Yes, sir." Aaron answered confidently, "It's the only way he will be able to compete on the same level as the other students, at least as Charms go. As you well know, over fifty percent of all magic involves Charm work in some capacity or other." 

Dumbledore peered deeper into Aaron, and for once, Aaron didn't back down. 

"I can see your thoughts, Professor. I just want him to be able to defend himself if the need arises. I'm not looking to create another Merlin. Face facts, students _do_ use magic in the corridors. They _do_ curse each other from time to time. They're children, it's what all children do. The only difference is your students use their wands rather than their fists." 

"For the most part, you are right." Albus said after a brief moment of silence, "Very well, I will allow it. Not that you would have listened to me to begin with, and do not give me that insulted look, Mr. Devlin, you and I both know how stubborn you can be." 

"I've gotten better," Aaron objected lightly, knowing full well that his obstinance was tempered only by prudence and nothing more. Albus just smiled. 

"Right, no bullshit. Point taken, sir." Aaron surrendered as he finished his drink, "If there is nothing more, I must excuse myself. I am quite tired. I've been traveling all over the continent today. Not something I'm used to." 

"That is quite understandable, Mr. Devlin," Dumbledore stood and walked Aaron out of his office, "I myself will be retiring shortly. Have a good night." 

* * *

Kim Vermont had seen quite a few people today. Mr. Weasley had come by and brought someone named Aaron Devlin with him. Kim liked Aaron. He was a deaf wizard, too. Aaron would be helping would be helping Kim learn how to do magic without having to speak. Aaron had said that it would be extremely difficult and that his grades might not be so good at first, but that wouldn't last for too long. 

Now that Mr. Weasley and Mr. Devlin had gone, his father had some other surprise guests come over. Kim never knew their names, but he knew what they were. They were a secret group of people who were trying to find a place called Merlin's Keep. Kim's father and mother were members, and Kim would be too. 

His father, James, let them in and explained to them what Kim was. They were astonished to say the least, but all of them were happy for Kim. He was given the test that very night. He passed. Kim was now officially a Knight of Merlin's Keep. He would help his fellows out in their task. 

Normally this meant secret training outside of his normal schooling, but as Kim was now going to be a wizard, they decided that that would be better for them. All of their members had physical training, but only a rare few could actually manipulate magic. Even then it was minor things at best. Kim would be what they called 'their ace in the hole'. He liked that idea. 

Before anyone realized it, it was way past his bedtime, so Kim went up to bed and slept, while his parents and the other knights discussed their latest plans to find and recover the Key to Merlin's Keep. 

* * *

Simon felt considerably better the next morning. His head felt clearer now that he had released some of the pent up emotion he was carrying. He wouldn't deny that he was still a little upset with everything happening the way it was, but now it at least seemed like a challenge he could take on. And Simon loved challenges. 

He decided that he would go to Hogwarts. His mum was right, University would always be there, and if he took a few years off, if and when he returned he would be closer to the average student's age. And going to Hogwarts he would be with kids his own age. Maybe not in the same class, but they would at least be there. 

He also decided that he was going to try and make up for lost time. He was fifteen years old and starting as a first year. Simon didn't like that at all. He would have to somehow make up for that. Maybe he could convince the teachers to let him learn at an accelerated pace. 

Simon paused in his thoughts while still lying in bed. What if he wasn't very good at magic? There had to be a lot more to it than just studying and memorization. Certainly more than just theory. Simon learned this the hard way with Football. He knew the rules, knew the tactics and strategy, but he lacked the physical prowess to excel in the sport. Not that it stopped him from trying, but he rarely had any actual game time. 

But still, if there were a way he could advance himself at least closer to his proper year, then he would try. And no time like the present. After a shower and breakfast, he would begin reading through his grandfather's magic books. He figured that if he memorized as much as he could, when the time came where he was taught the theory of magic, he would be able to practice a wider variety of spells than his fellow first years. Not that he wanted to be better than them, he just wanted to try and catch up with his year. 

His decision made, he sped off to the shower. When he was done, he went down to breakfast. As he passed the front room window, he noticed that there were fire trucks all around the street. He went outside to see what was going on. 

Simon was shocked to see that one of the houses was now nothing more than a smoldering ruin. It happened to be the house of those odd Dursleys. He watched in minor terror at the scene in front of him. 

Some of the firemen were carrying black bags between them. The looked heavy and vaguely human shaped. Simon paled severely as he realized that the Dursleys didn't make it out alive. He bowed his head and prayed for them. They were an odd family, yes, even downright snobbish at times, but even they didn't deserve this. 

But in the back of his head, he wondered if the dark haired boy he'd seen a few weeks earlier had made it out alive. Shaking his head clear, Simon went back into his grandfather's house. 

His parents were at the breakfast table discussing the fire in subdued tones when he walked in the kitchen. He looked at them with a forlorn face. 

"I just saw them remove the Dursley's from their house." he said meekly, "They didn't make it." 

His mother gasped as she put he hand upon her mouth. His father sighed heavily. 

"How are you doing, son?" He asked. 

"I'm okay. I feel sad for them but at least they're in a better place." 

"Yes they are. Why don't you sit down and we'll offer up a prayer for them." 

Simon sat at the table, the odors of the eggs and bacon hitting his nostrils, reminding him that he was very hungry. He and his family sat in silent prayer for a few moments. When they were finished, they served themselves up. 

"I've decided that I want to go to Hogwarts." Simon said after eating a few bites of scrambled eggs. "Mum's right, I can go to university anytime. If I go to Hogwarts, I'll be with students my own age. And I'm sure it will be a very difficult challenge." 

"I'm happy to hear that, son." His father said warmly, "Go ahead and write your response. I know someone who will send it for us. Then next week, we can go to Diagon Alley and pick up your school supplies." 

"Diagon Alley?" 

"It's a wizard's alcove hidden in London somewhere," his mother answered, "We've never been there, of course, but your grandfather told us about it. He said that if you did ever get your acceptance letter, that we would have to take you there to get your things. He left us instructions on how to find it." 

"There's supposed to be all sorts of wizard shops there." His father explained with some excitement, "Some of the things he described were absolutely fantastic but to him, they were every day things. Of course, to him, Television was absolutely incredible and VCRs were on the verge of demonism. Not that that ever stopped him from going to the video rental." 

Simon had to smile, "He thought VCRs were demonic?" 

"Almost." his mother corrected, "Once we explained the basic concept of it to him, he eased up his thinking a bit, but I wouldn't be surprised if he had said an extra prayer every time he played a tape, just in case." 

"I wonder what Diagon Alley will be like." Simon said to no one in particular. 

"Well you will find out soon enough." His father said. 

"I'm going to go through grandfathers books. I want to learn as much as I can before I have to go. I don't know how good of a wizard I'll make, but it certainly won't be for lack of knowledge." 

"That's a good idea, dear," his mother said mildly reproachfully, "But mind you I don't want you hiding up all week in that attic and basement. I want you to take the books outside. You need more sun. Why you're beginning to look like a little vampire." 

"Yes, mum" Simon said, rolling his eyes with a small smile. 

After breakfast, Simon looked through every box, shelf and desk that his grandfather had in the basement and small attic. It was quite organized though Simon wasn't exactly sure HOW it was organized. He noticed that all of the books were in the attic, probably cause it was barely large enough for even Simon to move around in. Most everything else was in the basement; Scales, different types of cauldrons, vials, phials, and jars of odd ingredients. 

Some of the jars were labeled but empty, but then Simon noticed the expiration date that was written on the label. He mused that his grandfather must have made sure that anything that would perish was disposed of. But there were still quite a few jars that had no expiration date. Most of these were dried herbs and... Other things. 

He set down the jar labeled "Powdered Cockroach" rather quickly. 

He sat down at his grandfather's desk. He wondered why his grandfather had two, for there was a similar one on the main floor. Then he remembered that his grandfather liked to socialize and that this must've been where he kept anything that was magical related. Better to keep it out from prying eyes. 

He opened the drawers and cabinets on the desk. There were some scrolls and pieces of parchment scattered about. He saw an ink jar and several fine looking quills sitting just off to the side. In one of the drawers, he found an odd sight. Well, odd for his grandfather. It was a ledger, but this one was modern, for the binding could be opened to remove and replace the ledger sheets. It was filled with his grandfather's writing, and appeared to be some sort of inventory. 

A small envelope fell from the pages. Simon looked at the envelope pensively. It had his name written on it and it was in his grandfather's handwriting. He picked it up apprehensively, wondering what life-altering events were going to come about because of this letter. He opened it carefully as if it might explode. The letter was not as destiny binding as he thought. 

Dear Simon, 

By now, you've decided to go through the things that I have bequeathed to you. If my last will and testament has not yet been read, then rest assured these books and other things have been left to you. The house is also yours, but it will be under your parents charge until you are twenty-one years of age. 

I have taken a complete inventory of all the magical items in my possession. As they are now yours, you may do with them what you wish; however I must give you some words of caution. 

First, underage wizards are not allowed to perform magic unless at a qualified school, such as Hogwarts, or unless you are under the tutelage of a qualified and licensed tutor. To do so could risk expulsion from school and barring from enlisting private tutors. Now I doubt they would "throw the book at you" to use an American muggle term, but the Ministry of Magic is made up of a bunch of stoic, doddering old fools who are the very epitome of the word curmudgeon (Not unlike myself on some days). Best to stay on their good side. 

Simon let out a small giggle. The few times that he had met his grandfather had always been fun. Claudius well admitted that he was "a grumpy old man" but he always made Simon laugh when he could. 

Second, the law notwithstanding, many of the spells and potions collected in these tomes can be quite dangerous. This is not to say that they are illegal, quite the contrary. I have never delved into the dark arts and would hope and pray to God that you would never as well. But legal doesn't necessarily mean safe. At least not as young as you are. I know you are one of the most brilliant people I've ever had the pleasure of knowing (and that's saying quite a lot) but your inexperience could be quite a detriment. I recommend that you do not try and experiment with the more advanced magics until you've securely grasped the basics. 

The inventory ledger in which this letter has been placed, lists all my supplies, as well as a copy of the table of contents from each spell book. The books are organized by level of complexity, the first being the easiest. Some of the equipment may be to old or just not appropriate to use at Hogwarts. For those that are unusable, you will need to purchase replacements at Diagon Alley. By now I hope that your foster parents have explained to you what Diagon Alley is, if not, ask them. 

Your list of required supplies will have the details of what you will need. Simply place the list inside the ledger for several minutes. When you reopen the ledger, your list will have been modified with what you will need from Diagon Alley, and what you have here will be highlighted in the ledger so you can collect them easier. 

The ledger should not leave the house, much less the basement. It is enchanted and bound to the house. Removing the ledger will break the enchantment, and though I'm sure that you will eventually be able to recast it, it is a very advanced magic. Using the ledger is not a violation of the underage wizard law because I was the one who cast it and it functions automatically, rather than by your will. 

I hope that these small gifts will help you in your learning to become a wizard. I have no doubt that the magic inside you will burst forth and allow you to do great and wonderful things. 

To you, my dear grandson, all my love and prayers, Claudius. 

P.S. There is a gold key in the top left drawer of the desk. That key will unlock a vault at Gringotts bank in Diagon Alley. There's not much wizard money there, but it is now yours. Allow your grandfather one last nag. Spend it wisely. 

Simon smiled with glee. His grandfather's will had not yet been read, but now he knew that all of these things were now his. Plus there was some wizard money in a bank that was all his. He couldn't wait until he went to Diagon Alley. It was going to be fun. 

* * *

Albus read the latest message from Arabella Figg, explaining that the Dursley's were now dead. He sagged back into his chair feeling very faint and cold. Though he was considerably angry with the Dursley's, he never would have wished such a fate upon them. 

The other professors at the breakfast table noticed that their Headmaster had gone extrememly pale and quiet. Professor McGonagall handed him a glass of orange juice which he mindlessly accepted and drank and instantly felt better. 

"Albus, what is it?" she asked. 

"Grave news, Minerva. The Dursely's lost their lives in a house fire." 

"No!" 

"I am afraid so. This can not be a coincidence. Excuse me, everyone, but I have some errands that demand my immediate attention." Professor Dumbledore said as he rose and left the Great Hall. 

* * *

The week had gone by quicker than Harry could believe. Harry was glad of that because at the beginning, Ron and Bill were still at odds with each other. Not so much as having words but there was a general uneasiness when they were both around. Bill was called up to Hogwarts the next evening, but there was still some considerable leftover tension. Harry noticed the occasional looks towards Ron whenever Bill's name was mentioned. 

Fred and George spent all week hiding in their room, no doubt concocting some more jokes for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Their mum had apparently given up trying to prevent them from opening their joke shop, especially since they seemed to be able to provide their own money for supplies. She gave them a serious glare when they had gone shopping with her only to come home with more parcels than she did. 

The question of shoplifting inevitably came up, but Fred and George were eventually able to convince her that they bought them legally and that the money was also legitimate, not stolen or otherwise illegally obtained. That took a bit of work without giving away Harry, but they managed to do it. 

Harry was glad, because he knew that Mrs. Weasley would blame Fred and George for talking advantage of Harry when it was in fact Harry who forced the money on them. Ron would have been distant to Harry for a while, too. Probably thinking that Harry was just trying to show off how much money he had. Either prospect was an unsettling prospect for Harry. 

Once Harry was awake and walking around from his ordeal, Ginny started talking again. A little at first, then more like her old self. But she still gave Harry a sorrowful look every time she saw him. It never lasted long, but it was still there. 

Percy, when he was home, was even more the pompous bureaucrat, due to the upcoming appointment of the new head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He was seriously pining for the job and so was working double time and weekends to try and make himself look better. Harry just avoided him when he could. 

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley acted perfectly normal, at least, as normal as they always acted. Mrs. Weasley did pine over Harry a bit more than usual but that was because Harry was still on the soup diet. But soon he would be moved up to more solids, she said. Mr. Weasley was truly himself around Harry, but on the occasions where Harry's Uncle and Aunt were mentioned, he had managed to easily turn the conversation to things like Muggle plugs and electricity, much to Harry's relief. 

Sirius Black had written to Harry, saying he was sorry he couldn't have been there to protect or help Harry, and was even more remorseful that he couldn't be there for Harry now, but he was on a vital mission for Dumbledore. Harry was sure that he was with Lupin or someone else that would have slapped Sirius down from doing anything rash. Otherwise, Sirius would have been at Harry's side. As much as he missed Sirius, Harry didn't want him to be captured and handed to the dementors. 

Hermione had written Ron, complaining that neither he nor Harry had written to her in a while. They each wrote her a letter and gave them to Hedwig to carry. Pigwidgeon was out on a trip for Fred and George and hadn't gotten back yet. Harry didn't know what Ron put in his letter, because Ron was rather secretive about it. Harry suspected it might have been some sort of love letter, and that Hermione would probably write them each a separate note in response. 

Harry had given a brief synopsis of what happened, making no mention of the man and the strange artifact. He only hoped she wouldn't go into her super fussy mode that she was prone to do on such occasions. Thankfully, when he read her response, she hadn't. She was upset by it but seemed rather cool headed about the whole thing. In the end, they had all decided to meet at the Leaky Cauldron the morning of their trip to Diagon Alley. 

Now he and Ron were in Diagon Alley, waiting for their friend. Ron had seemed even more eager to meet with Hermione after her letter back to him. Harry could see the hope and nervousness in his eyes and knew that they had finally admitted their feelings to each other. Harry was saddened by this news, but at the same time, he was happy. Ron and Hermione were good for each other. But it did give Harry a lot to think about. 

Finally, Harry decided that he would tell Ron everything, to get it all out and into the open. He didn't even think for one second that Ron would feel the same way about him than he did for Hermione. Fantasized, maybe, but he knew that Ron was not only straight as an arrow, but totally in love with Hermione. 

They had some time to talk before Hermione would arrive. The rest of the family had gone on their way to do their shopping. 

"Hey Ron," Harry said nervously as they sat sipping butterbeers. "I was wondering if you and I could have a little chat. It's pretty important." 

"Sure Harry," Ron replied with his usual passiveness. 

Harry sighed. He had thought up of so many ways to bring this up and couldn't decide on just one. Finally after getting some impatient looks from Ron, he started. 

"You like Hermione, don't you?" 

Ron's ears went pink, "Of course I like her. We're friends remember?" 

"I mean you like her more than just a friend." 

Ron's face now turned red and he stammered, not really able to answer that. 

"It's okay, I'm not going to make fun of you. In fact, I think it's great. I was beginning to wonder what it would take for you to finally admit it to yourself. I imagine you told her in your letter?" 

"Um... yeah," Ron's face went redder than it ever had before, "She feels the same way about me. We're going to try and be boyfriend and girlfriend. You really don't mind? I mean, you like Cho, right?" 

It was Harry's turn to turn red, though not for the exact reason that Ron thought. 

"Yeah," Harry said with trepidation, "But there's someone that I've come to realize I like a whole lot better." 

"Oh? Who?" Ron was genuinely curious, but he tried not to show it, fearing being labeled as a gossiping girl. 

"That's kind of hard to explain." Harry faltered. "Maybe if I used a metaphor it might be easier." 

Ron raised his eyebrow but shrugged, "Okay, but I have to say, you are being weird." 

"Okay, remember the second event in the Tri-Wizard tournament?" 

"How could I forget? I may have been asleep but even with Dumbledore's spell there's a lot that might have gone wrong." 

"Well, remember how they took someone important from each of the champions? Fleur's hostage was her sister, but Viktor's was Hermione." Ron scowled lightly at the mention of his competition. "And they took Cho for Cedric to rescue." 

"Yeah, and I was yours. Harry, they probably chose me for yours because Cho was already taken and so was Hermione. Besides, you've known me for the longest, thought admittedly not by much." 

"Well," Harry was fighting to continue. Fear of Ron's reaction was starting to weigh upon him like the Earth that Atlas bore. "What if it didn't work like that? I mean, Fleur is probably very protective of her younger sister, so I can see that, but what about Cho or Hermione. You saw how Cho reacted to Cedric's death. I think they had been going out much longer than that year. And you heard how smitten Krum was with Hermione." 

"I don't follow you." Ron said honestly. 

"What if they took something that you not only valued most, but loved the most." Harry said, barely able to keep his eyes connected with Ron's. 

Ron pondered this, and slowly realization came to him. His face paled slightly, and he looked at a loss for words. 

"Please don't be angry with me." Harry said quickly, "I only recently figured this out myself." 

"I'm not angry, just surprised." Ron managed to whisper, "I don't want to hurt your feelings, Harry, but I don't feel the same way." 

"I know, Ron," Harry said quickly, "And my feelings aren't hurt. I just thought, that before you and Hermione got together, that I should at least let you know. I figured better now then when you two are dating and cause a big ruckus." 

Ron's color became less paled but he was still a little upset. "Have you told her yet?" 

Harry shook his head, "No, I thought that you should be the first to know. I really don't want this to break up our friendship, Ron. I'm deadly serious about that." 

"Relax, I'm not upset," Ron replied, "well I am, but not in a bad way, I mean... Oh hell, I'm just a little off centered." 

They both remained silent for a few minutes; long enough for their empty mugs to be replaced by freshly filled ones. Ron was the first to break the silence. 

"It's up to you, Harry, but I think you should tell Hermione, too." 

Harry nodded, "I want to, but I wanted to make sure that you were okay with it first." 

"I won't lie, it's a little unnerving." 

"But I know your straight and even more, you love Hermione. I'm not going to let this get between all of us." 

"It doesn't upset you that I love her?" Ron asked nervously. 

"A little, but I don't take it personally. I know that you like me as a friend." 

"I doubt that will ever change. We may have some arguments, but I still like being your friend." 

"Me, too." Harry smiled, grateful to have this finally off his chest. He had little doubt that Hermione would have a problem with it. She was logical and very open minded. 

"So, does this mean you're gay? I mean, I don't have a problem with that either." Ron added hastily. 

"I think I'm Bi. I really did like Cho. I still do but I don't think it would work out. It's quite plain to me that she really loved Cedric. Since I saw him die, it might be too weird for her. Too weird for me, now that I think about it." 

Ron just nodded softly, "Well that's okay. I'm still your friend. You're not planning on telling anyone else besides Me and Hermione, though, are you?" 

"No. I'm not sure how most wizards think of homosexuality, but there are a lot of Muggles that don't like it at all. Vernon is one of them." 

"That's good then," Ron replied grimly, "A good portion of Wizards regard it even worse than being of mixed blood or muggle-born. It'd be best if you kept it quiet." 

Harry could only nod. He wasn't happy with that news, but it really changed nothing. It just meant that he would have to stick with Girls for the time being. 

A few minutes later, Hermione showed up. Ron was out of his chair in an instant and had pulled out a chair for her. She beamed radiantly and Harry had a tough time keeping himself from laughing. When he had better control of his emotions, he re-explained to her everything that he had told Ron. She took it as much as Harry had expected. Didn't have a problem with it in the slightest, cautioned him against blurting it out at school, and then mock threatened him to stay away from her man. Harry had never seen Ron so red-faced or elated as he had in that one moment. 

The three friends continued their banter and talk for a few more minutes before venturing out into the crowded street. Their day at Diagon Alley had only just begun. 


	6. Adventures in Diagon Alley

Fan fiction: Harry Potter 

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental. 

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned. 

AN: This is a revised version of the story. It is not complete and though I am working on completing it, I have many other things of higher priority (like school) that I must do first. Please read & review. 

* * *

Kim Vermont was absolutely beside himself with excitement as he and his parents, along with Aaron Devlin, walked into the Leaky Cauldron. They got more than a few odd looks from some of the patrons, but no one said anything. Muggleborns were easy to spot their first time in. 

Aaron took them all to a table and sat them down. James and Athena Vermont sat with Kim in between them while Aaron sat across from him. Aaron was the only one who didn't look completely lost or astonished. 

"I've been by this street for countless times and I've never seen this place." James said, still not believing that he was there. 

"You aren't meant to, Mr. Vermont," Aaron explained while also signing for Kim, "This is a wizards domain. The only time Muggles are allowed here are for certain circumstances. Shopping for student's school supplies is one of them. In any case, a wizard would need to be with you for you to see the Leaky Cauldron, much less enter it. Now that Kim knows it's here, he will be able to bring you back anytime. But school supplies aside, the only reason a muggle should be here is if it's an emergency." 

"Understood." James said resolutely, "Mr. Weasley explained a little bit on why wizards keep themselves separate from the rest of us. I can't say that I blame you." 

At that moment, a waiter walked up to the table. 

"Something to drink?" He asked Aaron, seemingly avoiding looking at Kim or his parents. 

Aaron's lip twitched at the rudeness of the waiter, but didn't want to cause a scene. He had to set a good example for Kim. He forced a smile as he replied. 

"Yes, I'll have a coffee, the gentleman and lady will both have a butterbeer, and a Wizard's Fizzle for the young lad." 

The waiter turned away without another word. The situation was not lost on James or Athena. 

"Is it just me or did he not want to serve us anything?" Mrs. Vermont asked. 

"That is, unfortunately, an accurate perception, Mrs. Vermont." Aaron replied diplomatically, not letting his anger show through. Kim wasn't fooled though. He could sense that Aaron was quite upset, but he didn't know why he could tell. 

"There are many wizards that believe that Muggles are inferior to them. Known Muggleborn wizards face a lot of bigotry. Now there are many other wizards who don't pay much credence to such a preposterous notion, Mr. Weasley being one of them. 

"Kim will face a lot of that bigotry, however there are a lot of muggleborn students at Hogwarts, and the Headmaster is well known for his acceptance of those who are different. 

"As for you two, well you will see first hand just how eclectic the wizard population truly is. You'll find yourself at odds with some wizards, while others will welcome you with open arms." 

Kim asked about something he'd noticed since they had walked in. [Is that the same reason why most of the other patrons are staring at us?] 

Aaron half-smiled, half-grimaced. [Not exactly, Kim. They're used to Muggles coming in around this time of year. They are not used to people using sign language.] 

Kim looked a little dejected, [So even at Hogwarts I'll be weird.] 

Aaron's blood boiled as he saw Kim's disappointment, but he kept his emotions under control. 

[I won't lie to you, Kim. Yes, you will be treated considerably different, but don't let that deter you. I'm sure you will make good friends at Hogwarts, especially among the other Muggleborn students. They spent most of their younger lives in similar situations. They caused weird things to happen that they couldn't explain. Their peers called them freaks. Now they may not have as an extreme history as you did, but it's there. Give them a chance. If they don't prove worthy, then that's their problem.] 

"Here, here!" Said one of the patrons close enough to hear Aaron's verbal translation. 

The Vermont's looked over to see who had spoken. It was an old woman sitting at a table to the left of theirs. Aaron and Kim didn't hear the woman, but they both noticed the heads turning. They too, turned their heads, Kim with curiosity, Aaron with confusion. Aaron glanced to James Vermont, who then quickly repeated and signed what the woman had said. 

Aaron smiled and winked to Kim, then gave a nod of appreciation to the old woman. She just raised her glass then went back to gossiping with her friends. The waiter looked surly at their entire table, but Aaron just smiled pleasantly at him. 

"Thank you very much, sir." He said in an overly cheerful tone. The Vermonts took a cue from him and did likewise. The waiter wasn't fooled and he scowled even further. 

"If the kid wants the Fizzle to fizz, he'll have to do it himself!" he said and then walked off in a huff. 

Athena was confused, "Fizzle?" 

"It's the drink I ordered Kim. It's a wizard's drink popular among children. The fizzle is really what makes it special, but you need to activate it with some magic, otherwise it's basically the same as a carbonated soda. Since Kim hasn't gotten his wand yet, we'll need to improvise the magic." 

He looked at Kim with a grin. [I want you to keep you eyes on the goblet in front of you, but I also want you to pay attention to what I'm going to do. first of all, take a deep breath and relax yourself. Good. Now let yourself feel the magic, like you would feel the wind breezing across your face and arms. Now keep your eyes on the goblet.] 

Kim kept his eyes on the goblet, wondering what was about to happen. He opened his mind up to feeling the magic, but he wasn't sure if he was doing it right. Then he felt it. It was brief but there. He looked at Aaron who nodded and said try again. Kim took an even deeper breath and relaxed his entire body. He stared at the goblet, yet he was no longer watching it. He felt something move across his body, like a slight breeze. It slipped past him and into the goblet. 

The result was nothing short of spectacular. The goblet's content's seemed to explode out in a flurry of sparks, snaps, and pops. It was like a miniature fireworks show. When the initial explosion was over, the contents that remained in the goblet were still sparking and popping, falling back into the goblet only to spark again. 

Kim beamed radiantly at the display. Aaron motioned for him to take a sip. He picked up the goblet and could feel the tiny explosions vibrate the cup. He nervously put it to his lips and drank. The experience was exciting. The liquid snapped and popped in his mouth, but it was far from unpleasant. It continued all the way down his throat until it got to his stomach, where the snapping suddenly stopped. It was absolutely delicious. Kim smiled even brighter. 

[I thought you might like that.] Aaron signed with a grin. 

Once the drinks were finished, Aaron took his charges into the back alley from the Leaky Cauldron. He pointed out the third brick to the left. 

"That is the brick that you will need to tap three times with your wand. The wall will open up into Diagon Alley. We don't have a wand, but I've had a little practice not needing one." 

He tapped the wall three times with his index finger; the brick started to quiver and then stopped. The wall did not open up. 

Aaron smiled through his now red face, "I'm a little rusty." He tapped three times again, this time the brick quivered and moved out of the way. Suddenly, the rest of the bricks in the wall were folding in on themselves, opening up to reveal Diagon Alley. 

"There we go." he said, still slightly red faced, as he led them into the crowded street. 

All three Vermonts were agape at the scene before them. Wizards and witches bustled about from one odd store to the next. They passed the apothecary, Eeylops Owl Emporium, Quality Quidditch Supplies, shops of all sorts. Aaron had to fight from being amazed himself. Though he'd seen a bit of Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade just barely a week ago, the twenty years he had spent away from the Wizarding world had caught up with him. 

He led them to a large white-ish building. A large sign above the entrance labeled it Gringotts Bank. 

"This is Gringotts. You will be hard pressed to find any other place in this world to secure your money. Not even the American's Fort Knox is as safe. It's run and operated by goblins, so don't be to shocked when you see one. They can be a little bit... grouchy at times, so watch what you say. 

"Now you won't have to have an account here to exchange your money into Wizard money, but I would advise it. They give you a much better exchange rate if you're a customer. The interest is nonexistent but what you save on the exchange rate alone would be well worth it." 

They walked into the bank and once again the Vermonts were surprised. The inside seemed larger than the outside, and it was grand. Old marble, great candle-lit chandeliers, and old English Oak. It was absolutely beautiful. Behind the large desks and teller windows, were the goblins of Gringotts. 

Mr. & Mrs. Vermont were able to easily hide their surprise and curiosity. Kim was not. He didn't point but he did find himself staring a lot and keeping very close to his parents. The goblins noticed this, but they were used to muggle children being completely shocked at their appearance. 

Aaron led them to the money exchange, but James stopped him first. 

"Mr. Weasley also suggested I open up an account and as Kim will be living primarily in the Wizarding world for the next seven years or so, I think it would be better for him as well." 

"Good idea, new accounts are over here. At least, I think. The U.S. branch is set up a little bit differently." 

The out of place group walked over to a series of desks, most of which were occupied by busily working goblins. One of them looked up at them, snarled, and then went back to work. Another goblin, hearing the snarl walked over to them. 

"New account?" he asked, his voice was low and guttural. 

"Yes, sir." James answered. 

"This way." The goblin said as he walked past them. He led them to an empty desk, motioned to the chairs, and then sat at the desk himself. After pulling out various forms on parchment and a quill and inkbottle, he looked at the odd people before him. 

"Muggles. I suppose you will be opening this account with Muggle money. No doubt in effort to save on the exchange rate." The goblin huffed, "Well let me tell you something Mug.." 

"Stow the small talk, shorty, and get to it already." Aaron interrupted, looking down at the goblin. "Time is money." 

The goblin looked evilly at Aaron for a good amount of time. Then he huffed what seemed to be a laugh. "Alright. First things first, we don't run our bank like the muggles. You only get one type of account, that's a vault. Whatever you put into it is your business unless it is a hazard to Gringotts employees. We also don't pay you interest, and why should we? We don't use your money so you don't get any of ours. We charge twenty galleons a year for a standard vault. That's cheap, as the Zakas here will tell you." 

Aaron blanched at the obvious derogatory but said nothing. 

"How much do you want to deposit?" 

"Would a thousand British pounds be good?" James asked, nervous but steady. 

"Humph!" The goblin huffed again, "That'll fetch you about three hundred thirty Gold Galleons. You should be glad he told you to open an account, otherwise it would have gotten you only one hundred forty-five Galleons. 

"Now we keep tabs on how much gold is worth in the muggle world, and I'll tell you right now, don't even bother with trying to melt it down and sell it for a profit. Galleons, Sickles and Knuts are minted with a special alloy, which makes it impossible to melt. It also makes it worthless to muggles." 

Athena nodded, "To protect the economy and stabilization of the currency, sounds remarkable. I wish we could do that with British pounds." 

"Eh?" The goblin was a little taken aback, "A smart one you are. Very rare. Well time is money, hand over the pounds, read this and sign at the bottom. Also put the names of whoever is allowed access. You will be given a key. Only one key, so don't loose it. If we have to replace it, it will cost you a lot. And I mean, a lot!" 

James handed the Goblin the paper money. The goblin looked at every last bill very carefully. 

"Good, all is in order. Have you signed yet? Why not? Time is money!" 

James quickly read the account agreement. He thought it might be written in some sort of legalese but it wasn't. It was written in plain, easy to understand, no chance for confusion, English. It said quite simply that the bank was not liable for anything barring an actual break in. Accounting was up to the customer. This included paying the annual fee. James signed at the bottom, putting Kim's name down as the account holder. Athena signed as well then had Kim sign. 

"Here's your key. Obviously there's no money in your vault yet. Hand this to the exchange officer. He will tabulate how much you will get and give it to you. You will then pay him the twenty Galleon fee. From there, if you want to deposit it, you can either go to a teller or deposit it yourself. We charge a handling fee if we deposit your money." 

James took the shiny gold key and put deep in his pocket. 

"Good, now go away already, I have work to do." The goblin huffed and shooed them away. 

"Well that was the worst of it." Aaron said quietly, "They're always a lot meaner to new clients to kind of set the tone of how things work. Once you get the hang of things, they're almost pleasant." 

The four collected the Galleons, Sickles and Knuts, paid the fee, and were soon on their way out of the bank. 

The first stop was Ollivander's Wand Shop. Aaron insisted that Kim get used to having his wand on him at all times though he wouldn't say why. Kim, however, seemed to understand anyway, having been told about Voldemort by his parents just a few days earlier. 

All four shoppers went silent as they entered the old shop. There was a strong undercurrent of magic and even Kim's muggle parents could feel it, it was so strong. Not for the first time did Kim notice that Aaron was nervous. He seemed to get so whenever anything to do with wands was mentioned. Only this time, the nervousness was palpable. 

It became even more so when an old man, obviously the proprietor, came out from the back room. He eyed each individual with careful scrutiny, stopping on Aaron. A look of profound disappointment befell his face and Kim actually felt sorry for the man, though he had no idea why. 

"Does the prodigal son return?" he asked Aaron. Kim couldn't hear the tone of the words, but it was if he had felt the subtle hope in them. It was rather eeire. 

"Just helping the young lad." Aaron said coarsely as if his voice hadn't been used in years. 

"I see," Ollivander replied. Kim's heart ached with the saddness in his face, but it was short lived as the old man looked his way with a genuine smile. 

"So you are the young Kim Vermont that I have been told about." Kim could only nod. "Well let's see if you are any more difficult a customer than your predecessor. A wand is not simply a stick to be waved about. No, it is an extension of a wizard's will. A wizard's personality. As unique as his own DNA and almost as vital. It is not something that you choose lightly. In fact, it is not something that you choose at all. The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Vermont." 

Kim still had nothing in him aside from a nod. This old man seemed nice, but in a creepy way. 

"Your wand arm, please." 

Kim held out his right hand and Ollivander started measuring it. The tape suddenly had a life of its own and began measuring different areas of his body. Unlike most magical things he'd seen up to this point, he thought it rather funny and couldn't help but giggle a little bit. This made the old proprietor beam with joy. 

"Now let's see what we can come up with. Try this one, Elm, Unicorn hair, ten inches." 

Ollivander exchanged the wand for the measuring tape. Kim wasn't sure exactly what to do, though. 

"Well give it a wave, boy." 

No sooner did Kim begin to wave the wand when it was snatched out of his hands by the old man. 

"No. No good at all, try this one, Oak, dragon heartstring, twelve inches." 

Kim grasped the wand and something happened. He felt a chill down his spine yet warn all over. He hadn't even began to wave it when a burst of multi-colored sparks shot out of the end. Clearly not even Ollivander was expecting such a result as his hair was singed in his almost too late efforts to duck. 

"Goodness! I'd say we've found a match." Ollivander smiled wide, oblivious to the smoke emminating from his slightly scorched hair. "You must be very eager to express yourself to have such a reaction. I hope you will keep your enthusiasum for the years to come." 

Kim was simply to stunned to respond. Even though he hadn't intended to cause such a scene, it felt right. The wand felt very comfortable in his hand, as if it were an integral part of him. He was hesitant to let Ollivander take it from him even to wrap it up. Aaron was too. 

"He'll take it as is." 

Ollivander gave Aaron a quizzical look. "How is he supposed to carry it? He's not wearing robes and Muggle clothing isn't generally designed to hold wands." 

"I have an old wand holster that he can use." 

"As you wish. The wand will be eight Galleons and three Sickles." 

James pulled out the appropriate amount to pay the old man while Aaron opened his rucksack and fitted the old wand holster to Kim. 

[There you go. Now most wizard clothing is designed with pockets and such to carry wands, but this holster will come in handy when you are in the muggle world. You have to make sure it remains hidden though. With certain exceptions, Muggles aren't meat to know about us.] 

Kim nodded with a smile, happy to know that he wouldn't have to be separated from what he now considered to be his right arm. The holster was fit comfortably and would be well hidden by his jacket or even a vest. Now that his wand was paid for, the four left Ollivanders to continue their shopping. Kim gave a wave goodbye to Ollivander, who kindly returned it. 

Aaron took them up and down Diagon Alley to the other various shops and stores. Most of the other shops were interesting in their own way, but still just plain stores, so the excitement wore of Kim rather quickly. He did find the Owl shop extremely intriguing. He realized he really wanted an Owl, but Kim had been raised not to beg or whine for something he wanted, but to save up his own money for it if it was really important to him. 

He checked how much pocket money his father had given him and compared it to the price of a rather small barn owl. The owl was far more than he could afford. Slightly dejected, he decided that he would just have to save up for it, and that he would not spend his pocket money on candy. Well... maybe one piece. 

As they continued their shopping, Kim's mother suggested that he go get fitted for his robes. The adults would then look into getting his remaining supplies. He figured that wouldn't be too bad. They would still have plenty of time to see everything after lunch, and Kim was getting hungry. 

He entered Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, feeling, rather than hearing the tinkle of a bell. A plump woman came from the back area and had said something to him, but as he was looking around, he hadn't been able to read her lips. She had a friendly smile and he smiled in return, then he pointed to his ears and shook his head. 

The woman looked extremely perplexed. She asked him something else, which he guessed was "You can't hear?" He shook his head and shrugged. The lady smiled again and held out her hand. She pointed with her other hand to the back area where another boy was getting fitted with robes. 

Kim followed her and stood on the pedestal that she pointed to. She placed a set of robes over his head and then set about pinning it up for measurements. The other boy was older by a few years. He looked rather thoughtful. Then he turned to Kim. Kim smiled and waved hi. The boy said something that Kim couldn't make out. Just as he was about to point to his ears again, the woman pinning up Kim's robes distracted the other boy. 

Then the look of understanding crossed the older boy's face. Kim figured the plump woman told him that Kim was deaf. But then the boy started using sign language. He wasn't very good, but he was at least understandable. 

[My name Simon. You?] 

[Kim. I am starting Hogwarts this year.] Kim signed proudly. Simon smiled. 

[That is two us. I start too.] 

It was Kim's turn to give a puzzled look. [But you're older.] 

Simon looked a little frustrated but smiled nonetheless. [Long story. Where you go school before?] 

[Foxridge Elementary. It was horrible. The teacher didn't know sign language and was always talking away from me. If it weren't for my friends copying down her instructions, my grades would have been abysmal. As it was I had to constantly do extra homework.] 

[I'm sorry hear that.] 

[It's okay,] Kim signed back, [Now I'm going to Hogwarts so everything is cool. I was originally hoping to get accepted into this special program for deaf kids, but there wasn't enough space. But then Mr. Weasley came by with my letter for Hogwarts. He said that they had brought in a specialist that would help me learn magic even though I'm deaf.] 

[Well was nice them.] Simon signed haphazardly as the other woman had removed the fitting robe from him. [Well I get going. Maybe help me sign at school?] 

Kim smiled and nodded. Simon smiled and waved as he left. A few minutes after the older boy left, Madam Malkin removed the fitting robe off Kim. She looked at him and said "Three hours" while holding up three fingers. Kim smiled and said thank you as best he could. He also signed it out of habit. The plump witch smiled and walked him out of the store. 

When he walked out, he saw Simon speaking with two boys and a girl that looked to be about his age. They were all picking up books that had apparently fallen. The dark haired boy with glasses was rubbing his head as if he had been hit. Kim then saw something that nearly made him pee his pants. The dark haired boy with glasses had a scar like lightning on his head. 

Kim didn't know why, but he knew instantly that this boy was The One Who Wears The Crown of Lighting. He knew that he had to find his parents quickly. He turned around and started to run. He looked back at the dark haired boy for an instant, but it was enough distraction to take a misstep. He found himself running into a wall of robe. 

He fell backwards onto the cobblestone street with an oof. When he looked up to see whom he'd accidentally run into, he was met with the piercing gaze of a tall man with silver blond hair. The man was sneering viciously at him. He then started yelling so fast that Kim couldn't keep up to understand him. 

He tried apologizing as he stood, but the man was obviously not appeased, for he closed in on him. Kim stepped backwards to get away but the man grabbed him by the shirt. He then raised his other hand as if he were about to strike him. As the man brought his hand down, it was caught. 

Kim was absolutely relieved to see his father holding back the hand that was about to strike him. 

James Vermont looked at the man before him. Rage just on the edge of his voice. 

"Is there a reason you were about to strike my son, sir?" 

The light-haired man sneered at James as if he was royalty and this serf had dared touch him. 

"Your impudent son wasn't watching where he was going." He said trying to shake his hand free. He didn't succeed. 

"It was an accident." James replied, squeezing hard on the fingers of his would-be prisoner, "I'm sure if you had given him enough time to get up, he would have apologized." 

Grimacing with pain, the silver-blond man released Kim, and was rewarded with his own hand back. He glared at James coldly. 

"You better watch yourself, Muggle," The man hissed his words, "You and you're mudblood son aren't wanted here." 

"Speak for yourself, Mr. Malfoy." Arthur Weasley said drawing several heads to turn his way. He was not smiling in the least, and his wand was in hand. "I for one, am delighted to have this gentleman and his son here." 

"You would, Weasley. A muggle loving fool, like Dumbledore. Are you planning to use that on me or are you just trying to impress the muggles? Trying to show them what a [i]real[/i] wizard looks like?" 

"I have no need to, Malfoy. You're doing a fantastic job of it by yourself." 

Lucius' hand dove for his wand but Arthur was quicker. He pointed his wand straight at Lucius' face. 

"Attacking a Ministry Official is a grievous crime Mr. Malfoy." He said with an almost imperceptible smile, "Worth at least six months in Azkaban. A Ministry head such as myself will get you 2 years minimum. By all means continue. I can curse you with impunity and still have you thrown to the dementors." 

Lucius stood there, poised to continue his trek for his wand, but after almost a minute in the stand off, he lowered his hand. 

"I won't forget this, Weasley." Malfoy hissed as he stalked away. 

"See that you don't!" Arthur yelled. 

When he was sure that Malfoy was no longer going to cause any trouble, he put his wand away. 

"I am terribly sorry that you had to witness that, Mr. Vermont. Most of us wizards at least try to pretend that we're civil." He said, red faced with embarrassment. 

"I take it he's one of those that Mr. Devlin warned us about?" James asked, putting a hand on Kim's shoulder to calm him down. 

"He's one of the worst. His boy has been a particular thorn in my son's side for some time now as well." 

"How unfortunate." 

"Indeed," Arthur sighed, "Well life goes on. My family is here along with some friends of theirs. We were just about to go to lunch, would you care to join us?" 

James quickly translated for Kim, who nodded with a small smile, but it was short lived, for he then quickly signed something to his father. James looked puzzled but nodded. 

"We'll meet you at the Leaky Cauldron. Kim want's to show me something first." 

Arthur simply nodded and walked off. Kim wasted no time in telling his father about who he had seen. James wasn't so sure, but after Kim described everything about him, James had no doubt. He knelt down and looked Kim straight in the eye. 

[Kim, this is very important. This is what your mother and I have been preparing our whole lives for. This is what we have been trying to prepare you for. Now you were inducted into our order at a very young age, because you are special, but because you are so young, you haven't been taught everything you need to know. We have little time as it is, so heed my words.] 

[Learn all you can about him. Who his friends are, where he lives during the summer, anything and everything. Even if you think it's completely useless, tell us anyway. We need to know if we are to protect him. We will keep in touch with you as much as we can.] 

[One last thing. You will be very busy at this new school, and as you are in a different year, you will not be able to watch him all the time, and well you shouldn't. Remember that you are a wizard, and you will need to learn how to be the best wizard you can be. There may come a time when you must decide between what is best for the Knights, and what is best for you. That choice is yours and yours alone. I trust that whatever you decide, it will be the right one. Do you understand?] 

Kim nodded, his face showing the awesome responsibility that has now been handed to him. 

[I'm glad son. If you see him again, try to act casual. He probably doesn't know what he's destined for and may not appreciate being gawked at. Now let's go get lunch.] 

The two Vermont men walked hand in hand towards the Leaky Cauldron. 

* * *

Simon Bergstead and his foster parents made their way through Diagon Alley. Simon couldn't tell who was more excited, him or his parents. Like tourists in a foreign country, they wandered about wide-eyed and agape at the unusualness. Also like tourists in a foreign country, they were easily recognizable. Some wizards gave them less than pleasant looks, others chuckled at their unfamiliarity, but most wizards just ignored them. 

Their first stop was Gringotts bank. For some reason, Simon didn't think it all that strange to see a goblin. His parents were a different matter, but they wisely kept silent as Simon talked with one of the goblins. The short creature named Griphook took them down to Claudius' former vault, now Simon's. 

The vault was far from overflowing with coin, but it had a lot more than Simon expected. Definitely enough to get his school supplies without having to rely on his parent's money. Not that they would mind, but Simon figured that his grandfather would have wanted the money spent on his education. It was one of those little things that he felt would honor his memory. 

He filled a money pouch with gold, silver, and bronze and all of them were soon on their way back to the surface. After a second exhilarating ride in the mine cart, the three humans departed Gringotts ready to begin shopping. 

Most of his equipment he already had, thanks to his grandfather, though the telescope was rather antiquated and fragile, so he would replace it. His potions equipment was top notch and well kept. In fact, there were no less than ten cauldrons in his basement of varying sizes and made of different metals, including a solid gold one. Claudius was apparently very serious about his potions. 

Simon's parents left him to collect his supplies and they agreed to meet at the Leaky Cauldron in time for lunch. Simon's first stop was the general market. Most of the stores in Diagon Alley served a specific purpose but for everything else, there was the market. It had produce and food stores, non-standard containers and utensils, and other mundane items that weren't sold at the more specialized stores. 

He bought himself a large trunk and rented a trolley to roll it around while he was in Diagon Alley. Then he went to the apothecary. He spent little time here, as the smell was rather odious. After purchasing his basic potions kit, he wandered over to Ollivander's wand shop. 

The wand shop had an eerie feel to it. If Simon didn't know any better, he was sure that the store itself was alive and definitely aware of his intrusion. Proving his theory more likely, an old man appeared seemingly from nowhere. 

"Good morning, young man. I am Mr. Ollivander." 

G-good morning, sir." Simon said, a little of guard, "I am here to purchase a wand." 

"Of course you are. Why else would you be here?" The old man said without malice, "You look very familiar. What's your name?" 

"Simon Bergstead. I'm sure we haven't met before." Simon replied, his nervousness growing. 

"Ah! You must be Claudius' grandson. That's why I recognized you. You have his ears. A little bit larger and pointier than most. Though yours aren't nearly as large as his were when he was your age." 

Simon could only look confused as the old Mr. Ollivander answered. 

"But he was a very good man. I was dearly saddened to hear of his passing, but I'm glad that you are finally able to start your magical education. Now, let's make sure you get started off right, shall we. Stand over here so I can take some measurements." 

Simon complied silently as Mr. Ollivander pulled out a measuring tape. 

"Wand arm please." He asked, uncurling the tape through his old wrinkled fingers. Simon held out his left hand and the old man began measuring it, among other things. He then let the tape go and it started measuring Simon by itself. Mr. Ollivander then set about pulling out some long thin boxes. 

"Having been raised as a muggle, you will probably not know how we find the right wand for you. Well the simplest explanation is that we don't find it; it finds you. The wand chooses the wizard. No Ollivander wand is alike. Some may use the same components, oak wood, unicorn hair, and may even be the same size, but they are always truly different. 

"One wand may have the hair of a unicorn from England, while another may come from Ireland. They will be radically different. Even so, I try to avoid repeating myself where possible." 

Simon was just listening patiently as the tape had started measuring places that he wouldn't have thought important to owning a wand. It was quite embarrassing. 

"That's enough." The tape measure dropped just as it headed for his more personal of places. Ollivander climbed down from the ladder against one wall with several boxes in his hands. 

"Now, give that a wave, Oak, Phoenix feather, 14 inches." 

Simon grasped the wand and gave it a wave, but no sooner did he start when Ollivander had clutched it from his hand. 

"That won't do try this one." The process repeated itself numerous times, each with no luck. As Ollivander went to get more wands, Simon noticed one sitting on the counter. Normally Simon would have never given into his curiosity, but the whole situation was just odd enough to test even his self-control. He picked up the wand, not really expecting it to do anything. 

He was wrong. As he grasped it, his whole body got very warm. Simon gave the wand a wave and blue and silver sparks flew out the end. Mr. Ollivander was startled and nearly dropped several boxes. He turned and stared hard at Simon, who was now feeling very foolish. 

"I'm sorry," he said quickly as the old wand maker put the other boxes away. 

"Well let me remind you of the old fable of how curiosity killed the cat, however, the wand did find you, so I can forgive you this time. Very curious though." 

"How do you mean?" 

"Well your wand is not entirely unique." Mr. Ollivander explained as he cleaned up the remaining wand boxes. "I mean it is in it's own way, but I remember every wand I've made and sold. Every one. Yours is made of Holly, has a phoenix feather for it's core and is eleven inches. I made one exactly like it several years ago. I used a different phoenix for yours, however, and a different tree. Those two factors make your wand unique for you, but it is still very odd. 

"It is interesting that you are to have that particular wand. I just finished making it. Had you started Hogwarts when you were originally supposed to, we may not have found you a proper wand. Very interesting. Well shall I wrap it for you, Mr. Bergstead?" 

"Yes please." Simon was nearly speechless. Not an unusual circumstance considering that he didn't talk much to people he didn't know, but it was compounded by the strangeness of the whole situation. 

Mr. Ollivander wrapped the wand up and escorted the perplexed Simon out of his store. "Good luck, Mr. Bergstead. I'm sure you will make Claudius very proud. 

"Thank you, sir." he replied, and then quickly left. 

Checking his watch, he noticed that it was almost lunchtime. If he hurried, he could get fitted for his school robes before lunch and pick them up at the end of the day. He found his way to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. The bell rang softly as he entered. 

An older, friendly looking witch greeted him. 

"Good morning, dear, come to get some new robes for school?" 

"Sort of. I'm just starting." 

"Oh? A late bloomer. Well that's quite alright dear, come back here and Hilda will get you started." The plump witch led Simon back to several pedestals where another witch was unfurling a fitting robe. Simon stepped up onto one of the pedestals and was soon covered in a fitting robe. 

As Hilda began pinning up the robe, he heard the tinkle of the front bell again. Madam Malkin greeted the new customer then brought him back to the pedestal next to Simon's. 

Simon figured this boy would be starting Hogwarts as well. Seeing the age of this boy, he was reminded that he would be the oldest first year in the school. He sighed in resignation, and then turned to face the boy. 

The other boy wasn't very tall even for an eleven year old, but he looked like he might have competed in sports because he had some muscle definition. Or at least Simon thought that he did; it was hard to tell as Madam Malkin had just put a fitting robe over the small boy's head. The boy smiled and waved at him. 

"Are you starting Hogwarts, too?" Simon asked. 

The boy looked a little confused and started pointing at his ear, but Madam Malkin was quicker. 

"Oh, this boy can't hear you. You might have to talk a little slower so he can read your lips." 

Simon realized why the boy had started pointing to his ears. But Simon knew a little sign language. Enough to be understood he hoped. 

[My name is Simon. What's yours?] He signed, but he was sure that there might have been something he left out. 

[Kim.] the boy signed back, very proud of what he was saying, [I am starting Hogwarts this year.] 

[That makes two of us. I am starting, too.] 

[But you're older.] the boy replied with a puzzled look. 

Simon breathed deeply at the latest reminder that he was out of place but smiled. [Long story. Where did you go to school before?] 

The boy's reply was very animated; so much that Simon had difficulty keeping up. However, he knew that it would be rude to ask him to slow down. That was one of the things he learned at the university when he was taking deaf studies. However, Simon was able to get the gist of what the boy was saying. Apparently he had a tough time at school but had some friends helping him. 

[I'm sorry to hear that.] Simon signed back honestly. He had seen how difficult it could be for deaf people. Most of the people he'd met were beyond independent as a result, but it could still be frustrating for them. 

Kim was still signing a little bit too fast for Simon, but he was still able to get the idea of what he was saying. The boy was going to go to a special school but there apparently wasn't enough room. Then a gentleman whose name Simon couldn't make out had delivered Kim's acceptance letter. And they had brought in a teacher to help Kim specifically. 

[Well that was nice of them.] He tried to sign just as the woman had pulled the robe off of him. [Well I need to get going. Maybe you can help me practice signing at school?] 

The smaller boy grinned and nodded. Simon waved good-bye to him and walked out the door. He checked his watch and realized that his parents would be waiting for him at the Leaky Cauldron. He began to rush towards the inn when from nowhere a shadow crossed his path. They collided and both ended up on the ground, books dropped everywhere. 

Simon picked himself up and was about to offer his hand to the black haired boy he had taken down with him, but was interrupted by a red head considerably taller than him looking very angry. 

"Hey! Can't you watch where you're going?" 

"I'm terribly sorry, I was in a hurry." Simon didn't know whom he was apologizing to, the boy he knocked down or the boy that looked like he was about to knock him down. "Let me help." He said in an almost frantic voice, hoping that he could avoid a physical confrontation. He bent down and started picking up all the books. He didn't hear the bushy haired girl admonish her friend for being overbearing. 

The boy who was knocked down collected the other half of his books then stood about the same time as Simon. Their eyes met and Simon recognized him immediately. His eyes went wide. 

"You're alive!" 

"Um... yeah," he said rubbing his forehead where he got hit, "Though this hasn't exactly been my week." 

"My parents and I were so worried about you. We thought you had died." 

The black haired boy looked a little perturbed. "What has this been spread all over the daily prophet again? I can't have one weeks rest without the whole Wizarding world making a fuss!" 

"Harry, there was nothing about you in the Daily Prophet. And that Rita Skeeter has so far, kept her word." The bushy haired girl told him. 

"Well then how does he know about it?" Harry asked angrily 

"I live across the street." Simon replied before he could stop himself, "It's kind of hard not to notice your house burning down." 

All three friends turned at him in unison and said "What?" 

"You're house burnt down. Didn't you hear about it? You're parents were killed." 

The boy named Harry flinched and his hand brushed over a scar on his forehead. Simon could see true pain in his eyes but could do nothing about it as the Red head had grabbed him and was starting to shake him roughly. 

"What are you playing at, boy?" he yelled angrily. Simon turned absolutely white and felt like he was going to collapse right there. 

"Ron!" the girl was trying to calm him down, "Let him go." 

He complied but it was more of a shove. Simon couldn't help but take a step back to balance himself. As it was, his knees were shaking and his heart was beating rapidly. He tried very hard not to let his eyes water, for he knew if he did, then this bully would just push him even further. 

"I should knock some sense into him." Ron muttered angrily. The girl just glared him down. Then she turned to Simon. 

"Something isn't right here." She said, half logically, half annoyed, "You can't be that much older than us, yet you talk as if you remember the fire like it was last week. You would have been two years old at most when that happened." 

Simon was seriously confused, and the terror he was experiencing wasn't helping him think, but the fire was last week. Of that he was sure. 

"It was last week." he said very nervously, "His parents and brother were killed. I saw them as they removed the bodies." 

"He doesn't have a brother!" Ron yelled and stepped closer, causing Simon to step back. Simon's heart was beating faster than ever and his eyes were beginning to water, much to his chagrin. 

The girl pulled Ron back by the scruff of his neck. "Ron, stop being belligerent." 

"Hermione, I'm not being belligerent," he protested, shaking free, "I'm just trying to get this jerk to back off." 

Ron flung out his hand in a violent gesture towards Simon. He didn't come close to actually hitting him, but Simon, suffering from a severe panic attack at this point, couldn't tell the difference. With a whimper he ran away, not thinking to take his trunk with him. 

He didn't know where he ran off to; only that it was dark and secluded. He collapsed against an old brick building down a back alley. Tears flowed from him as he curled up into a fetal position, all the while saying, "Please don't hurt me." in a weak voice. 

* * *

"Ron!" Hermione admonished, "Was that really necessary?" 

"What? You heard what he was saying, it was complete nonsense." 

"We'd better go find him." Harry said quietly, still in shock about the whole thing. Something about the other boy seemed familiar. 

"Why should we?" Ron protested. 

"Because one of us is responsible for making him run off," his now girlfriend chided. "Didn't you see how terrified he was of you?" 

"Well..." Ron reviewed the confrontation in his head and realized that Hermione was right. "I didn't realize it at the time." 

"Come on." Harry said urgently. He had the sick feeling that the boy was in trouble. 

The three friends started walking off and looking for the boy, Ron grabbing the boy's trolley. Harry was leading the way, with his two friends following close behind. He didn't know exactly where he was going, only that it was the general direction. Something was leading him. Something familiar, only he couldn't place what. 

Soon, the three turned down a small back alley. There was the boy, curled up in a ball against the brick building, sobbing heavily. Harry could hear the words, "Please don't hurt me," repeated quietly, over and over. The familiarity was growing. 

Hermione cautiously kneeled next to him and placed her hand on his head to brush the boy's long brown hair from his eyes. He curled up tighter. 

"Please don't hurt me!" he cried harder, "I'm sorry, just please don't hurt me. I won't do it again." 

"I'm not going to hurt you." Hermione said calmly, "None of us are." 

The boy did not seem to hear her, for he continued to beg to be unharmed. Hermione seemed at a loss for what to do. She turned to Harry and Ron, exasperation in her eyes. Harry took a hard look at the boy curled up in front of him. He looked very familiar. Then it hit him suddenly like a ton of bricks. 

"Oh my god." he said quietly. Hermione and Ron both looked at him incredulously. 

"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked. 

"Hermione, step away from him quickly. You're only going to make it worse." 

"But I'm trying to help" 

"He can't see that!" Harry grabbed her gently and pulled her away from the crying boy. "He's in shock. Nothing of what we're saying is registering to him. He's legitimately terrified." 

"Why?" Ron asked fearfully, "I admit I might have been over the line, but I couldn't have possibly been that bad, could I?" 

"You were the catalyst for something greater, Ron. I think he's been beaten like I was." 

Hermione gasped, "How can you tell?" 

"Because he's saying exactly what I was feeling when Vernon was lashing me with his belt." Harry had paled as the memory was coming back to him. He tried to remain calm but it was increasingly difficult as the seconds passed by. 

"What do we do?" Ron asked, genuinely concerned. 

"I don't know. We can't just leave him here, but we can't get near him either or he might just have a heart attack." Harry said getting more and more frustrated. 

"I'll go find Mrs. Weasley, She'll know what to do." Hermione said. 

"Yeah, Mum knows practically everything about these things. I'll go with you." 

Harry watched the two run off. Not knowing what else to do, he just sat himself up next to the brick wall. He then started talking to the boy. About what happened to him, and how he felt about Ron. He couldn't figure out why he was saying all these things, especially to a complete stranger, but he was beginning to feel better about everything. He kept talking so much to the point where he didn't realize that the other boy had long been silent and was listening intently. 

As Harry paused in his ramblings, he finally noticed the silence. He turned to the boy, still curled up in a fetal position. The boy started to go pale again. 

"I'm not angry" Harry quickly said, "It's okay, I don't want to hurt you." 

"You promise?" the boy asked meekly. 

"I promise. My name is Harry. What's yours?" 

"Simon." 

Harry gave Simon a serious, yet comforting look. 

"Who beat you, Simon?" 

"No one." Simon said quickly. 

"Don't lie, Simon. I don't have to see the bruises to know it. I told you what happened to me. Was it your parents?" 

Simon bowed his head and more tears were shed, though in shame rather than fear. 

"You don't understand. It's different for me. I'm a wimp. The other kids pick on me all the time. They would corner me on the playground and then torture me. Sometimes they would tie me up and do horrible things to me. Just because I was smarter than them. I couldn't fight back, they were much older than me." 

Simon had completely broke down at this point. Harry went out on a limb and reached over and placed his hand on the other boys shoulder. Simon fell into Harry's arms and wailed. This was the second panic attack that he had in a week. He genuinely didn't know if he would be able to survive the first month without having a nervous breakdown. 

It was at that point that Ron and Hermione had returned with a nervous Mrs. Weasley, and a slew of other Weasleys who were curious as to what was going on. Mrs. Weasley's first reaction was to grab the boy into her own arms and hug him, but the boy had obviously bonded with Harry, so she let him cry himself out on Harry's shoulder. 

Molly shooed the other Weasleys, Ron and Hermione included out of the back alley and told them all to go to the Leaky Cauldron. After a few minutes, Simon stopped most of his crying. Feeling a bit ashamed he tried to just leave, but Mrs. Weasley would hear nothing of it. 

"Oh no, young man, you're not going out there in the state you're in." She pulled out her wand and with a quick spell, Simon's face felt like it had been washed clean. In fact, it had. 

"There you go. Much better. Now, where are your parents?" 

"I was supposed to meet them at the Leaky Cauldron." Simon said, out of tears, but still feeling like crying from shame. 

"Well I'm sure they're worried sick about you. Why don't we take you there." 

Simon was to exhausted to argue. Harry put his hand on Simon's shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile. 

"It's okay, Simon." 

Simon couldn't explain why he felt the way that he did, only that he believed Harry. On an impulse, he pulled Harry into a hug and was pleasantly surprised when Harry was hugging him back. Harry then broke from the embrace and with his arm around his new friend, walked him back to the Leaky Cauldron. 

* * *

Simon's parents were worried. Simon was very punctual to a fault; yet today he was about half an hour late. At first, his mother just said that he was probably still exploring and lost track of time. Considering this was their first time in Diagon Alley, they couldn't blame him. But not this long. Simon would never have been this late without having something drastic come up. 

Right as she stood up to go looking for him, Simon came in with a boy about his age, arm around his shoulder. When Simon saw his mother he rushed to her and practically crushed her in his hug. She could sense his shaking and knew that he had had another panic attack. She didn't question him, just hugged him back, and then managed to separate him so they could sit down. 

The Black haired boy with glasses walked up with concern. 

"Simon, are you going to be okay, now?" 

"Yes, Harry, thank you." Simon nodded, "These are my parents, David and Elaine Thomas. Mom, Dad, this is Harry Potter." 

"How do you do, Harry?" Elaine asked nervously. She was still worried about Simon. 

"I'm fine, thank you." Harry answered almost as nervously. 

She nodded then turned back to Simon, "Honey, what happened? We were worried sick about you." 

"I had another panic attack. I'm okay, now though. I'm just still a little shaky." 

"What brought it on?" David asked, genuinely concerned. 

"Umm..." Simon was trying to explain everything without making it sound like it was Harry's fault, but Harry stepped in. 

"It was kind of my fault. Mine and my friends." Harry said quickly, "It was really a big misunderstanding. Simon was trying to tell me about what happened to the Dursleys, but he thought that they were my parents, not my aunt & uncle. Well it's a long story, but my parents death is kind of a touchy subject, and well..." 

"But it's okay, now Dad," Simon interjected, seeing Harry's discomfort, "As he said, it was just a misunderstanding on both our parts. Harry helped me through it though." 

After a brief moment, David nodded, then held his hand out to Harry. "Thank you for helping my son, Harry." 

Harry really didn't know what to say without sounding foolish, so he just nodded politely, shook David's hand then made his way over to the numerous tables that the Weasley's and Vermont's had staked out. 

Simon and his parents sat down at there own table. Elaine gave him a loving but stern look. 

"Okay, what really happened?" 

"Truthfully, it was big misunderstanding." Simon explained, "His parents were killed when he was only one year old. When I mentioned what happened to the Dursleys, I had thought that they were his parents. His friends thought I was mocking him, so naturally they went to defend him. The tall one over there, Ron, was rather aggressive. He didn't actually threaten me or hit me, but he had grabbed me. His girlfriend, Hermione stopped him though. 

"I ran off to have my attack, and they followed. Harry sent them away and then he just sat down and talked to me. Told me about a lot of his problems. He really helped me come out of the attack." 

"Are you sure you're okay, Simon? We can come back another time." 

No, Dad, I'm okay," Simon answered, calmer but still shaken, "I just need some food and I'll be fine." 

David stayed silent but nodded. 

As the three ate lunch in silence, Simon couldn't help but take furtive glances over to Harry. He knew that Harry was now his friend. What they shared with each other was just too personal for them not to be. But he felt something more. Simon dared to hope that he might actually have a friend that was more than a friend. Time would only tell. 


	7. One night more

Fan fiction: Harry Potter 

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental. 

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned. 

AN: This is a revised version of the story. It is not complete and though I am working on completing it, I have many other things of higher priority (like school) that I must do first. Please read & review. 

Speaking of reviews, many thanks to those of you who have reviewed so far. I do read all of them but I prefer not to respond in the story as it misrepresents how many real words are in the story. If you review and would like a response, tell me so and leave me your e-mail address. If you prefer to e-mail me directly, that's fine but be warned, though I check it often, there's still the chance it might get lost in the spam filter. My e-mail addy is navigator0047@hotmail.com 

* * *

Harry woke with a start. His breath was fast and he was sweating heavily, as if he had a nightmare, but it wasn't a nightmare, was it? He couldn't remember any of it. He sat himself up on the bed so he could collect himself, and that's when he noticed it. 

There was an odd sensation around his crotch. It felt wet and sticky... Harry sighed upon the realization that he had had a wet dream. He might have been embarrassed about it, but he had started having them shortly after the second Tri-wizard task last year. Most of them had been about Cho at the time, but after Voldemort killed Cedric, they changed over to Ron. Ron himself had had several after Hermione consented to be his girlfriend. In fact, it looked like he might be having one now. 

Harry furrowed his brow. He knew for some reason that this dream didn't involve Ron in the slightest, though he didn't know whom it did, or why. It puzzled him that he couldn't remember the dream. And it also frustrated him because he would have to wait until later to clean himself up. Though he knew the perfect spell (Seamus had taught it to him after catching Harry "in the act" one time) but because he wasn't at school, he wasn't allowed to do magic. 

He didn't want to get the Weasley's in trouble either so he would have to clean himself up the old fashioned way. With a cold shower. Harry looked at the clock next to Ron's bed. The moment he did, it flipped from "Bedtime" to "Go back to sleep!" Definitely too early to take a shower. 

He sat back against the wall with a quiet sigh and reflected on his recent life events. His incarceration and beating at the hands of his now late uncle, Vernon Dursley, Coming out to Ron and Hermione. Meeting Simon and Kim. 

As Harry thought of Simon, something stirred inside him. Something stirred down below as well. Could Simon have been the one he dreamed about? Sure he was cute in a nerdy sort of way. He wore silver wire frame glasses that seemed to go perfectly with his deep blue eyes. 

Harry sighed contentedly as he experienced another stir. Simon was definitely the cause of this night's nocturnal emission. But something about him was nagging Harry in the back of his mind. No, not something about him, something about what he said. 

When they walked back to the Leaky Cauldron earlier that day, Simon told Harry what happened to the Dursleys. Harry couldn't bring himself to grieve for them. When asked why, Harry merely said 'As you were hurt, so was I, by them.' Simon didn't know what to say at that point, so Harry changed the subject. 

But it was that part of their conversation that Harry was remembering now. Why was it nagging him so? His uncle and aunt were dead now, why was it bothering him so? 

Then realization struck him harder than Vernon had ever done. The fire wasn't an accident. He didn't know if it was intentional or not, but it was certainly not a coincidence. It definitely had something to do with that strange object. Harry chided himself for not connecting everything sooner. 

No longer concerned with anything else, Harry lit the candle lamp on Ron's desk. He pulled out some parchment and a quill and began writing. 

_Dear Professor Dumbledore, _

You've often asked me to tell you about anything odd that's happened to me, especially when my scar is hurting. Well it's not and hasn't since Voldemort's return, but something very odd did happen this summer. In fact, it was the indirect cause of my current physical condition. 

About a month ago, as I was weeding the front garden, a man had collapsed right into the rose hedge. I tried to see if he was okay, but he saw my scar. He smiled then he gave me something and said something that sounded like a spell. He died right then. 

Vernon locked me in the cupboard, thinking I had killed him but I didn't. I swear I didn't kill him. I tried showing Vernon what the man had given me, but when he grabbed it, it burned him. That's when he started in on me. I tried to exlain to Vernon but he wouldn't believe me. He just kept hitting... 

Harry didn't notice that he was crying until that point. They fell silently as Harry tried to continue his letter, but he couldn't. He also didn't notice that Ron was now awake and had been watching him write. 

"Harry?" he asked quietly, "Are you okay?" 

Harry couldn't bear to look at Ron. His shame at being completely weak tore at him, almost as much as the pain of remembering Vernon's punishment. Ron crawled out of bed and strode quietly over to the desk. Harry turned away from him but made no attempts to hide his letter. Ron quickly read it, and in a moment of unusual tact, said nothing. He just carefully took the quill from Harry's hand and finished the letter for him. 

_Dear Professor, It's Ron Weasley, Harry couldn't finish the letter so I am doing it for him. We found out yesterday that the Dursley's were killed in a house fire. I don't know anything else about what is going on, but Mum and me will take care of him. I promise. -Ron_

Ron tied the letter to Hedwig's leg. She didn't want to leave at first, seeing Harry so distraught, but Ron looked at her and said, "This is important. Take this to Dumbledore." That was apparently all she needed because she flew out the window faster than Ron had ever seen. 

Harry was still crying quiet sobs from the desk chair. Ron picked him up as if he were as light as air. Harry didn't seem to object as he was carried over to Ron's bed. Ron set him down and then spooned up behind him. He gently rubbed Harry's hair and let The Boy Who Lived cry himself to sleep. 

* * *

His lover's caress was sheer pleasure. Every subtle touch sent quivers throughout his young body. They kissed passionately in their lust. Held each other tightly in their love. He let his hands wander his lover's body. Lightly up the back, fingers running gently through the hair and coming to brush softly against his lightning scar. 

Simon's eyes snapped open as he gasped in astonishment. His body convulsed slightly as it released it's pent up tension. The warm sensation slowly spreading across his now tender loins. The orgasm sending shocks through out his body in the most sensitive places. 

As his body recovered from it's exertion, Simon's consciousness bloomed. He was wide-awake now, knowing full well that his "lover" was none other than the boy who lived, Harry Potter. 

Simon sighed in frustration. This wasn't the first wet dream he had, nor, he reckoned, would it be his last. It also wasn't the first time that it involved a boy. Upon reflection, Simon couldn't recall ever having one involving a girl before. This had bothered him at first, but then Simon accepted the fact that he was gay and that trying to think or act otherwise was just foolishness. 

But to have a wet dream about a boy he just met? Granted, he had seen Harry before on numerous occasions on Privet drive, but those had been fleeting, and Simon wasn't one to have fantasies on looks alone. 

What was worse was that the boy he fantasized about was one of the most famous wizards of the time. Simon had read his grandfather's Daily Prophets, so he knew who Harry Potter was, he just didn't know it was his neighbor. Not until the afternoon before. 

He recalled their conversation. It was mostly Harry talking at first, while Simon was recovering from his panic attack, but then soon Simon was talking back. They had exchanged a brief history of their lives in the small amount of time it took to walk back to the Leaky Cauldron. At the time Simon was just grateful to have made a new friend, but now it seemed his subconscious wanted more than just friendship. 

With another sigh, more from the resigned loneliness familiar to him, Simon got out of bed to change his undergarments. As he removed the soiled boxers, he reflected that it was times like these that he was glad his chores included doing his own laundry. As open as he was with his parents, there were just some things that they didn't need to know. 

Cleaned up and re-dressed in nightclothes, Simon crawled back into bed. No sooner did he put his head on his pillow than his new cat landed on it right next to him. Simon smiled contentedly. He was originally going to get an owl, but when this frisky ball of fur jumped into his hands, he fell in love instantly. He also liked the idea of having at least one friend at Hogwarts, Harry not withstanding. 

His parents bought an owl anyway. Their reasoning being that they would not have to wait until Simon mailed them before they could mail him back. And if he needed to send anything out, he could always use a school owl. Simon liked that idea, not that it would have mattered. The cat, which was now purring heartily under Simon's attention, had definitely won him over. As selfish as it would have been, he would have gone the whole year without mailing his parents if he had to. 

"Othello" Simon spoke quietly. The cat responded to its name as if it had it all its life rather than a half a day. "School starts soon. A whole new world to get used to. It won't be easy." 

The cat just continued to purr as Simon pet his soft fur. 

"Think I'll be able to survive?" 

Othello mewed softly, as if in response, then purred even more as he curled up next to Simon's chest. 

"Optimist." Simon said sleepily, and then fell back into a restful sleep. 

* * *

James and Athena watched their young son sleep soundly. They watched as the boy smiled in his sleep, dreaming of magic wands, fantastic creatures and wizard's fizzles. Content that at least one member of their family would be nightmare free tonight, they both quietly left him to his dreams while they walked downstairs. 

They were quiet not because they might disturb their son, but because they wanted to enjoy the peacefulness as much as possible, before the coming storm. 

James had sent word to the others of the boy that Kim had seen. The boy that they had met with the Weasleys. The boy named Harry Potter. They would soon respond with instructions that both James and Athena already knew. Kim would be required to watch and report on this Harry Potter. 

Kim would do his duty, of that neither of them had any doubt, but what troubled them both was the fact that their son was a wizard, like one of those whom the Knights had first served. 

The Knights had latent magic within them. Such power was bestowed upon their ancestors that even after many generations, it was still present. But even for the first knights, it was never enough for them to be considered wizards. Merlin himself saw to that for a specific reason. He saw first hand that power can corrupt, so he both blessed and cursed those chosen to defend his keep. 

Blessed with certain enhanced abilities: perception, strength, intellect, the Knights would protect the keep from those who would commit evil, yet cursed by limiting their powers. Never could they grow beyond what he gave them. Until now. 

It was not lost on James and Athena that their order would wish to use Kim and his abilities to their own ends. But as noble a cause as theirs was, was it enough to rob their son of his right to lead his own life. 

This was what was on their minds as they slept that night. This was what gave them worrisome dreams. That they might spurn their son away from them was haunting reality. One that James hoped to avoid with his warning to Kim. 

"There may come a time when you must decide between what is best for the Knights, and what is best for you. That choice is yours and yours alone." 

He reiterated those words before Kim went to bed, and his wife agreed. The Knights would have blanched at that if they knew. Their order, although far from malevolent, had been known to be a little heavy handed when it came to matters of usable resources. They wouldn't go so far as to harm Kim, after all their charter is to protect not only the keep, but what it stood for. However, even the most noble of causes can fall to the whims of the fanatic. It would be safer to keep things to themselves at this point. 

And then there was this Harry Potter, the boy whose scar was surely the crown of lightning. What would become of him in the times to come? The key had been found and lost again, quite possibly to the enemy, whoever that was. If so, they would surely move to find and open the Keep. To do that, they would need this boy. 

James and Athena would have preferred to watch Harry instead of Kim. But the situation could not be helped. Kim was the only Knight accessible to him. He would have to be enough. Their thoughts mirroring each other's, James and Athena held each other close and prayed for their son. 

* * *

Aaron tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable enough to sleep. He was still getting used to the soft down mattresses, but that wasn't the sole reason for his insomnia. 

Something was awry with his new student. When they sat down to lunch that afternoon, the boy was nearly beside himself when he saw the Harry Potter boy. He did a fantastic job of hiding it from everyone else, but Aaron knew better. Body language was another form of communication and young Kim was absolutely screaming. 

The boy's father and mother were also offset by something. And it all had to do with Harry Potter. Aaron couldn't figure out what but it was obvious to him that Harry didn't know he was causing such a disturbance. 

Aaron did have to hand it to the Vermont family; they were quite astute in covering their agitation. Kim not so much as suppressing it as hiding it behind the guise of being like a kid in a candy store. 

But Aaron knew. He didn't ask because the hidden looks that had passed between parent and child told him volumes. They didn't want anyone knowing about it. 

Aaron turned over again, thinking about the other things that were bothering him. Lunch with the Weasley's was an interesting affair. The twins body language also suggested that they knew something, only it had nothing to do with Harry, but with Aaron himself! 

The asked some very leading and mildly pointed questions. Aaron couldn't hear the tone in their voice but he could see the way they held themselves as they talked. They were fishing for information. Aaron was sure they were plotting something, though what he had no clue. Considering the stories he heard from some of the professors at Hogwarts, it could prove to be quite an embarrassing situation if he wasn't careful. Then again, it could be downright amusing as well. 

Of course, he had already begun planning a retalliation. 

Aaron sighed. He was fooling himself if he thought that those other things were what was really keeping him up. In truth it was Bill. Bill Weasley. 

This past week had been near hell for Aaron because of Bill. Just being around him was intoxicating, but when Bill had sat down with him to discuss how they could best suit Kim's needs, it took all of Aaron's consciousness just to keep his mind on the tasks and not try and molest the red-haired god that was unknowingly teasing him so. 

Aaron smiled contentedly as his body reacted rather positively at that thought. Positively indeed. Aaron continued his thinking and with that, aided his body's reaction. 

He imagined caressing Bill's sweet tanned and rugged face. Running his fingers through his long fire-red hair. Playing connect the dots with Bill's multitudes of freckles. Bill would hold him in his strong arms and talk to him, his deep voice rumbling throughout his body. They would make unbridled, passionate love with each other, and then they would hold each other until they fell into a blissful sleep. 

Aaron gasped and sighed as he climaxed. His body, long overdue for release, rebelled against him and he had to just lie there for a few minutes before he was able to move again. 

Aaron savored the electric sensation as much as he could, but it was a melancholic pleasure, riddled with the reality that Aaron would never taste that sweetness which he desired. 

He sighed, contented and frustrated at the same time. He would be spending almost a whole year among his desire. Though he knew he could keep control of himself, he internally screamed at the thought. He didn't want to control himself. He wanted to shout out his love for Bill. 

Aaron paused in his thoughts. How could he love Bill? He had only known him for barley more than a week and even then it was in passing. Yes, he definitely lusted after him, of that there was no doubt, but did he really love him or was it just loneliness fooling him? 

Aaron decided that he would find out the answer, knowing that regardless, Bill would never be his. The decision made, Aaron could no longer stay awake. He drifted off into the dream world where is desires and fears would continue to volley back and forth. 

* * *

Bill Weasley drove the motorcycle as fast as he dared. At that time in the morning, the muggle police weren't out in force looking for speeders, but caution was prudent. Especially as Bill didn't have a license nor did he even own the vehicle. Without even a muggle birth certificate, Bill was a blank, an unknown entity. A traffic stop would mean instant jail time for him. 

Though the muggle jails were nothing compared to Azkaban, they could be problematic nonetheless. His wand would undoubtedly be taken away from him, which meant that he wouldn't be able to Apparate. Plus the only person who Bill knew who had access to a phone was Darrin. Though Darrin wasn't exactly on Scotland Yard's ten most wanted list, Bill was sure that it would be a bad idea to try and call him if he got arrested. 

So he kept to the speed limit, though it grated him to do so. Darrin owled him, asking him to meet at his flat. Bill agreed hoping that Darrin would have some information on the machinations of Voldemort. He looked in the sidecar at the sack of goodies that Bill convinced his mother to prepare, including several mince pies. 

With barely a minute to spare, Bill arrived at Darrin's apartment complex. Darrin was waiting for him at the front of the door. Bill grabbed the sack of food and followed him in without a word. Once they got inside Darrin's flat, it was a different story. 

"What in the blazes are you doin?" Darrin chided Bill, "Yeh don't have a license. If you were pulled over, that'd be all she wrote on yeh." 

Bill noticed that his friend's accent dropped back to its more Irish roots, which meant that Darrin wasn't too happy. 

"I was careful." He replied, a little annoyed himself at his friend's indignant attitude. "Besides, how else was I going to get here?" 

"Yeh could have Apparated, yeh daft fool." 

"Then how would you have gotten back your motorcycle? It's not like you could just drop on by the Burrow and say 'Hi, I'm a wanted criminal. I've been fraternizing with your son there and I lent him my illegal motorcycle. Can I have it back?'" 

"And why couldn't I?" 

Bill did a double take when he heard that. It wasn't until he saw Darrin's devilish smile that he realized Darrin was joking. 

"Yeh can keep it. It might come in handy." 

"I couldn't afford it." Bill said sternly. 

"Then consider it an extended loan... I smell mince pie." Darrin dove into the sack as soon as he noticed the pleasant aroma. He came out with one of Molly Weasley's delicious mince pies. He took it over to his kitchen and served up two plates. 

"Mmm... still warm. Wondrous things, warming charms." Darrin said with a mouthful. 

"Okay, I got you some mince pie, so what's so important that I come meet you in the middle of the night?" 

Darrin finished his mouthful before responding. "Nothing concrete, but word off the vine is that You-Know-Who is looking for something. There's been a recent demand for old historical books. Ancient texts and things of that sort. Now I'm no literary or history expert, but it seems to me that if all his supporters can't come up with the information he needs then it's not out there to be found. At least not available to the public" 

"So you think that some private collections might be at risk of looting?" Bill asked, failing to resist the temptation of the plate of mince pie in front of him. 

"Yes. The ministry's is well protected, but who knows how many of the ministry blokes are on Voldemort's payroll. But even then, I highly doubt the ministry's library is more comprehensive than Voldemort's. The one I worry about is Hogwarts." 

"At the risk of sounding overconfident, I don't think Voldemort could get past Dumbledore." 

"Himself, no, I have to agree." Darrin nodded, "But he won't need to. All it takes is for a loyal student to sneak in and get what he needs. I don't know what it is Voldemort is looking for, but he needs to find out information about it. I'd hazard to guess that whatever it is, it's old, and definitely powerful." 

"So we at Hogwarts should keep our eye out?" 

Darrin nodded, "Speaking of keeping an eye out, how's Harry doing?" 

Bill recalled the sight when they had found Harry, and also remembered cleaning him. He was instantly put off his pie. Darrin misunderstood the reaction. 

"Oh my god, he's not..." 

"No!" Bill quickly replied, "No he's actually fully healed. Physically that is. I can't say how he is handling everything emotionally. He is a strong kid but even the strong have limits." 

Darrin snorted, "You're telling _me_ this?" 

Bill couldn't help but smile, "Yes, yes, you've been saying that since out third year." The smile was short lived, "I'm fearful, Darrin." 

Darrin could see that his Gryffindor friend was quite upset. 

"These are turbulent times. We all have something to be fearful of. Voldemort." 

"That's not what I mean," Bill sat down on the couch setting his half eaten piece of pie on the coffee table, "I've been living a charade for most of my life. Had it not been for finding Harry, I'd probably be happy to continue the charade." 

"Hold it, Gryffindor. I can see where this is going and it's suicide." 

"I'm not afraid of the Death Eaters, Darrin..." 

"I'm not talking about Death Eaters, ye daft fool! I'm talking about politics. You come out of the closet now and that'll be all she wrote on your teaching carreer. I doubt the goblins would be to happy about it either." 

"The goblins don't give a damn about anything as long as I do my job well, and I'm one of the best they've got." 

"But the Governors of Hogwarts won't be to happy about it. Even Dumbledore has to answer to them. They'll toss you out quicker than you can think. And that's just if only they find out. If Rita Skeeter got a hold of it, good Gods the uproar. You'll be crucified. Quite possibly literally." 

Bill just leaned back into the couch in frustration. "I know." 

"Look, I can probably understand what you're going through better than anyone else. I _live_ in the shadows, not just work there. It's not easy living a lie." 

Bill gave his Slytherin friend an odd look. 

"Okay, for me it is, but don't you think I occasionally wish I could walk the open street without looking behind my back?" Darrin sat down on the opposite side of the couch, "And what I really don't get is why now? What is it about Harry that got you thinking all emotional? And I'm not talking the obvious here, Gryffindor, I want the real reason." 

Bill sighed and gathered his thoughts. 

"I want to be a father," He finally said wistfully, "I want raise a child of my own. I want to teach him good from bad, take him to quidditch games, teach him how to annoy Snape best. Things a father does." 

"Ah, the picture becomes clearer. Seeing Harry reminded you that your biological clock is ticking." 

"Women have biological clocks, not men." 

Darrin laughed heartily, "Oh the anacronysm that the Wizarding world still lives in is too astounding for words. Wake up and smell the muggles, Gryffindor, men have biological clocks. The big difference is that men's clocks are less physiological and more emotional. I'm serious, they've done studies." 

"Oh fine, I have a ticking clock. That doesn't change my situation. I'm still lonely, and I still want to have a child." 

"And just who were you planning to have this child with? Do I have to explain to you again how babies are made?" 

"I could adopt." 

"Okay, I can accept that," Darrin surrendered that point, "There are orphans even among wizards. But the Ministry isn't about to let a single man adopt anyone. Got someone in mind to get hitched to?" 

Bill sighed with slight smile, "Yes, but I have no idea if he's gay or not, though Fred and George seem to think he's enamored with me. I certainly am with him." 

"Oh really? What's he like?" 

"Don't know yet. I've been trying to find excuses to spend time with him, but it's difficult. He's so closed off, but he has a quiet dignity about him. So independent." 

"Carefull Gryffindor, you're starting to drool." 

"It's the pie," Bill deadpanned, "Oh who am I kidding? He's probably straight. Great Merlin what am I going to do?" 

"Hmmm.... well I can think of two possible solutions. First, you can deny your poofness entirely and marry a nice girl and settle down. With those eyes of yours they're practically falling off you so you certainly have a good stock to choose from." 

That earned Darrin a Weasley glare. 

"Okay, no more comments about the eyes. Your second option is to go off into the muggle world where poofs like you are more accepted. Get hitched to a nice burly man, adopt and never have anything to do with magic again." 

"And either way, continue to deny everything that I am and be miserable for the rest of my life." 

"That about sums it up," Darrin nodded, taking another mouth full of pie, "Your mother makes the best pies." 

* * *

It was early morning when the tapping on his window woke him. Too early for his old body, he was sure, but the tapping was persistent and was getting more so by the second. 

"Very well!" Albus groaned, "Patience is a virtue. I will be there shortly." 

His bones creaked in protestation of this early rousing, his mind protesting as well, but it was either get up now and answer whatever was tapping at his window, or lie in bed all morning being driven mad by it. The old professor chose the former as the lesser evil. 

He opened the window and was not really surprised to see that it was Hedwig who disturbed his slumber. She was fanatic in her duties as a post owl, often going far beyond what is expected. Especially where Harry was concerned. 

Albus recalled a time some two years earlier when she had shown up unannounced with no letter. At first he might have thought that Harry was in trouble, but her calm state waylaid that fear rather quickly. In reality, she had come seeking a birthday present for Harry. So tired was she of seeing him depressed on his birthday that she had traveled all over the continent in hopes of being able to deliver a present to him. 

It was inappropriate for the headmaster to give student's gifts, so he had to turn her away, but he did mention that Hermione Granger was in France and might have need for an owl. If Hedwig could find Albus Dumbledore while he was on vacation, then she could certainly find a twelve-year-old English girl in France. 

What became of that, Albus never knew, but that was unimportant. What was important was that Hedwig was here now and she was holding out her leg seemingly with a sense of urgency. 

"Could this have waited until breakfast?" He asked tiredly. 

Her indignant hoot spoke volumes as to her opinion of his priorities. Albus sighed and gently took the letter from her leg. 

He found his spectacles on his desk and sat to read the letter. By the time he was finished, he was glad he had sat down. In part out of sympathy for the grief that Harry was now beginning to show about his abuse, but more so from his description of the events thus far. 

Once again, Harry was a victim of circumstance. Albus felt every one of his one hundred sixty two years in that moment. He might have just sat at the desk staring out into nothingness for the whole day just pondering the implications, had it not been for Hedwig's impatience. She nipped his finger gently, just hard enough to get his attention. 

"Oh, yes. Thank you Hedwig, this was indeed important." He said as he pulled out some parchment and a quill. "I wonder if I might make use of you. I need to send some letters with the utmost urgency." 

In a very human like fashion, Hedwig nodded her assent, though it was more of a bow considering her avian physiology. Albus wrote out a very short letter, and then cast a duplication charm on it, making several copies. He then tied the letters to her leg. 

"The first goes to Deadalus MacLeod, here in Scotland. The second to Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. You will find them Whales. The last to Arabella Figg near Privet Drive. Go quickly my friend." 

Hedwig wasted no time in flying out the window on her new mission. Albus sighed heavily as he watched her fly of into the distance. When she was no longer in sight, he closed his window again and trod back to bed. There was much to do, but it couldn't be done if he was laid up in the hospital wing from exhaustion. 

As sleep quickly enveloped him, he whispered an old blessing to protect his charges in the turbulent times to come. And turbulent they would be. 

* * *

"Harry! Ron! Time to wake up!" Mrs. Weasley's voice came out from the other side of the door, "We leave for King's Cross Station in under two hours whether you've been fed or not, so you'd better hurry up." 

Ron just mumbled incoherently and remained asleep. Harry woke up enough to want to roll over, but he realized that he couldn't. He was currently being held in place by Ron's arms around him. What was even more startling was that his arms were around Ron! 

Harry remembered that Ron had held him as he fell asleep, but apparently during the night, Harry had managed to roll over and grab onto Ron. Ron being the heavy sleeper that he was must not have noticed. 

Harry carefully extracted himself from Ron's embrace. Harry enjoyed it, but he had to get up and he didn't want Ron to think that he was being taken advantage of. As soon as he was free, he climbed out of bed and set off for the shower. 

Harry took a little longer than he normally would have, despite the need for haste, but no one had complained so he figured everyone else was already ready. When he went back to Ron's room, he was surprised to see that Ron wasn't there, nor Ron's clean clothes that he'd laid out the night before. 

Harry dressed quickly then set about packing the rest of his things into his trunk. He carried it downstairs as quietly as he could, but he was still a little weak from his ordeal, and he had dropped one end several times. Fred and George arrived just in time to prevent it falling for a third time. 

"Oy! We got this for ya Harry," George said, "You'd better get down to breakfast quick before Ron eats what's left." 

"Ron's already ready?" Harry asked, bewildered. 

"Yeah," Fred answered as he and George carried his trunk down the stairs, "He used mum and dad's shower while you were in the upstairs one." 

"How long was I in there?" 

"About an hour." George said nonchalantly, as if hour-long showers were commonplace. 

"An hour! Why didn't someone knock on the door?" Harry asked. He was shocked that he could have possibly taken that long. 

"Mum," The twins replied in unison. 

That was all the answer Harry needed. Mrs. Weasley was being overly motherly again. Harry wanted to be annoyed with it, but he couldn't bring himself to it. He missed out on having a mum to take care of him, so he relished every moment he could with Mrs. Weasley. 

The twins carried Harry's trunk past the kitchen and out to the front porch. Harry walked into the kitchen to find that the rest of the Weasley family was finishing up breakfast. There was still plenty enough for Harry though. 

Harry noticed that Percy had barley touched his breakfast and was fidgeting something awful, a most un-Percy like behavior. Then it hit him; Today was when they were going to announce the official replacement for the Director of International Magical Cooperation. Percy had submitted his resume and application for the job, and had even been filling in as a temporary replacement. 

"Hey, Percy," Harry said as he sat down, "Good luck today." 

Percy couldn't seem to talk but he acknowledged Harry's wishes with a nod. 

"Speaking of which," Arthur said having just finished his eggs, "We'd better get going. I have it on good authority that Fudge will officially change the name of my department and assign me more staff today. I don't know what's gotten into him, but he's been rather open to change recently." 

Percy nodded and stood along with his father. 

"Good luck at school, children." Arthur said and then he and Percy disappeared with a "POP" 

Harry served himself up a healthy portion of eggs and toast with a large glass of orange juice. Mrs. Weasley set another glass down in front of him with smoke pouring out from the top. He made a face but drank the unpalatable nutritional supplement without comment. At least this was the last time he'd have to take it. 

As Harry ate, the rest of the Weasley family excused themselves to finish packing up for school. Mrs. Weasley remained and sat down across from Harry, watching him eat ravenously. 

After a few moments, Harry glanced at her, feeling a little self-conscious. She just smiled. 

"I'm sorry, dear, I was just worried about you. Ron told me about last night." 

Harry shivered a little but didn't lose control. 

"I was writing a letter to Professor Dumbledore and I remembered what Vernon did to me. I.." He couldn't continue, so he just took another big mouthful of eggs. 

"It's okay, dear. You don't have to talk about it if you don't feel up to it." Molly said consolingly. 

Harry nodded slightly and continued to eat his eggs in silence. Mrs. Weasley stood and cleared the dirty dishes with her wand. As she passed by Harry, she gave his shoulder an affectionate rub. In that moment, Harry felt as safe as he did the night before when Ron held him. 

The contact ended far to soon for Harry, but he still felt a lot better. With renewed vigor, he dug into the rest of his breakfast. 

* * *

Simon and his parents arrived at King's Cross Station quite early, but still hadn't found Platform 9 ¾. They had quickly learned not to ask anyone at the station after the first clerk yelled at them. 

"What is it with you people? I mean really, this practical joke nonsense has gone far enough. There is no Platform ¾!" 

Simon looked around for anything that might look remotely wizardish, but couldn't find anything. 

"It's 10:30," his mother said, "I hope we find it soon. I'd hate to have you miss your first day of school." 

"I'm torn on whether or not I share that sentiment, mum," Simon answered nervously but still looked around, "However it'd be a lousy start to my wizarding career if I missed the first day." 

"Why don't we try Platform 9 & 10 again," Simon's father said, "I seem to remember your mum mentioning something about that." 

"You know, it's things like that that make me think I inherited my eidetic memory from you rather than my birth father." 

"And mother," Elaine added. "Whatever, it's still creepy." 

With a small laugh, David patted his adopted son's back. 

After a brief walk, the three soon found themselves on Platforms 9 & 10. Everything looked so mundane it was depressing. Simon's nerves were even more agitated. He was far from a panic attack, he knew, but his heart was beating a little too fast anyway. He took several deep breaths to calm himself down. 

His third exhale was a sigh of complete relief and all the tension and nervousness were completely gone, though it had nothing to do with the breathing. Harry Potter and his friends had just walked onto the platform. 

"Look, there's Harry Potter," Simon said excitedly, "The boy I met in Diagon Alley. He must go to Hogwarts, too. He'll be able to help us." 

Simon walked at a brisk pace with his parents and luggage trolley in tow. The gap between him and Harry was soon closed. 

"Harry," Simon called to get his attention. 

Harry looked over at to where he heard his named being called and smiled to see Simon. He waved Simon over to where he and the Weasley's were standing, preparing to enter the secret passage to Platform 9 ¾. Simon and his parents joined them quickly. 

"Hi Simon," Harry said a little bit to excitedly, but Simon didn't notice. Ron did and stifled his snicker into a cough. George and Fred also noticed, but merely looked at each other and smiled devilishly. 

"We have been here since a quarter after ten looking for Platform 9 ¾." Simon said, exasperated, "I was beginning to think that the letter was some elaborate hoax my grandfather concocted." 

"No, it's no hoax. But they hide the platform from the muggles. It's safer that way." Harry replied, more in control after hearing Ron's snicker/cough, "The way to the platform is through that barrier." 

Simon looked disbelievingly at Harry. Harry smiled. 

"It's true. Watch Fred." 

At the obvious cue, Fred took his luggage trolley and lined up with the barrier. He did a quick check to make sure no one was looking and then broke at a full run heading straight towards the barrier. When he disappeared through the magical gateway, Elaine gasped. 

"Oh good heavens!" She said nervously, "He's okay, isn't he?" 

"Oh he's fine, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied with a smile, "It a special spell that let's only wizards through. I'm Molly Weasley. The red heads are obviously my children, and your boy already knows Harry." 

"Elaine Thomas," She replied, still a little off centered by what she witnessed, "This is my husband, David. Only wizards? Oh dear, that means that we'll have to say goodbye now, Simon." 

Simon sighed, and then hugged and kissed both his parents. He then looked at Harry. 

"Okay, what do I do?" 

"Line up as perfect as you can," Harry explained, "Since this is your first time through, you might want to take it at a run. When you are in the portal itself, you'll feel a little weird, but don't stop. You won't get stuck, but you can get very disoriented and pop out sideways." 

Simon took several deep breaths, lined up with the barrier, waved to his parents one last time, then broke into a full run. When he was sure that he would stay lined up with the barrier, he closed his eyes and ran even faster. 

Suddenly, he felt as if he were floating and twisting, upside down and every which way, but he felt the ground firmly beneath him so he kept on running. After a brief but terrifying experience, he felt normal again and stopped. He opened his eyes and saw Platform 9 ¾ lay out before him. 

After clearing out of the way so the others could get through, Simon took a good look around the platform. There was the Hogwarts Express, with students of all ages boarding and loading their trunks. Parents were chatting with each other while their children caught themselves up about their summers. Owls, cats and other animal noises could be heard throughout the platform but it was nothing compared to the noise the humans were making. 

"It's a lot to take in at first, but you get used to it," Harry said from behind Simon, causing him to jump, "Wait till you get a load of Hogwarts itself. Now that's a sight to behold." 

"I can imagine." Was all he could manage to say. 

"Oh, your mother said to owl her the first moment you get. She want's to make sure you got there okay." 

Simon rolled his eyes and his face turned a little red. Harry just laughed. Soon Ron, Ginny, and George joined them, followed by Mrs. Weasley. 

"Oh what lovely people your parents are," Mrs. Weasley told Simon, "You should owl them first thing tomorrow morning to let them know you're okay." 

Harry started snickering, as Simon turned even redder. Thankfully he was saved from more ribbing by the arrival of Hermione Granger. 

"Hi Harry. Hi Ron," she said as she gave Simon a thoughtful look, "What was your name again?" 

Simon cleared his throat, "Um.. I'm Simon." 

"Hermione Granger," she held out her hand. 

Simon took it into his own hand with some trepidation but dutifully shook it. When it was clear he wasn't going to say more, Hermione took the initiative once again. 

"I didn't get to apologize the other day. I just wanted to say I'm sorry that we startled you." she looked over to Ron to follow suit. When it was clear to her that he didn't get it, she kicked him. 

"Ow! What?" One glare from Hermione told him all he needed to know. "Oh, yeah, I'm sorry, too. Harry's a real good friend of mine and I can overreact sometimes." 

Simon didn't want to extend the conversation any further than he had to, as Ron still very much intimidated him. 

"Sure," he said almost to quickly, "It happens. Um.. I'm going to go find a compartment now. I'll see you around." 

He gave Harry one last smile, "Thanks for your help." 

Harry said something but Simon was already making a hasty exit away from that group. Even though he considered Harry a friend, he didn't feel likewise about Hermione or Ron, and he didn't want to put Harry in an uncomfortable position. 

The train was very old fashioned from what Simon was used to, but it was a pleasant new experience for him all the same. Though lugging his trunk up the doorway took some work. He finally managed to get it on the train and into an empty compartment. 

Once he had the trunk safely stowed, he let Othello out of his basket. The black tabby mewled his pleasure at finally being freed from the wicker prison. He purred contentedly as Simon gave him a few skritches and pets, then he set about investigating the compartment. 

Simon sat next to the window that faced out onto the platform. He noticed Harry talking with his two friends and sighed, wishing dearly it were him that he was talking to. Better yet, holding hands and doing other more intimate things. 

Simon shook his head clear of the impure thoughts. One of the last things he needed now was to get a hard on. It could cause some serious complications. 

And what's more, he hardly knew Harry. Simon chalked it up to hormones, as he hadn't fully gone through puberty yet. The signs were there, but the were minute. His voice only just started to break and even that was barley noticeable. 

He sighed again for no particular reason. Othello crawled into his lap and padded his front paws on Simon's chest, investigating the sigh. He mewled inquisitively and sniffed Simon's face. Simon laughed lightly as his cat's whiskers tickled his face. 

A light knock on the door caught both their attention. Heads turned simultaneously to the door. Simon recognized the small boy as the deaf Kim he met at Madam Malkin's Robe Shop. He motioned for the boy to come in. 

Kim opened the door and smiled. 

[Hello,] he signed, [Would you mind if I joined you? You're the only one that I'm sure knows sign language aside from my interpreter.] 

Simon replied slowly to make sure he was understood, mostly for himself. 

[I don't mind at all. Where is your interpreter, anyway?] 

Kim gave a small scowl, [Up near the engine with the other adults. He said the headmaster wanted me to try and socialize without him as much as possible. He said now was as good a time as any.] 

Simon suppressed a smile. Deaf or not, Kim was as precocious as any eleven-year-old Simon had ever met. 

[Well I am glad you are here. It will give me good practice with my sign language.] 

[Thanks!] Kim disappeared for a second as he went to fetch his trunk. He brought it in and with Simon's help, stowed away for their long journey. 

The two chatted about themselves a bit. Kim talked about Mr. Weasley giving him his letter and the magic he witnessed on the Wizards Fizzle. 

Simon, in turn told Kim about how he got his letter from his grandfather and why he was starting Hogwarts so late in his life. 

Pretty soon, the Hogwarts Express was on its way. 


	8. Off to Hogwarts

Fan fiction: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental.

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned.

AN: This is a revised version of the story. It is not complete and though I am working on completing it, I have many other things of higher priority (like school) that I must do first. Please read & review.

Sorry this took so long to get done, but school is a much higher priority for me. Hopefully I will have chapter 9 up relatively soon, but don't hold your breath. Thanks again for those of you who reviewed.

* * *

"You're welcome." Harry replied to the quickly retreating back of Simon.

"Ron, I can't believe you are so thick!" Hermione snapped, "Can't you be a little more sincere and act less like a storm trooper?"

"A what?" Ron asked, perplexed at her statement.

"Oh never mind," Hermione gave up, "Just try to be less intimidating and a little friendlier, okay?"

"I don't do it intentionally." Ron said meekly. He was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek and subsequently some catcalls from George and Fred.

"I know, but try anyway." Hermione said, ignoring the two pranksters.

"Come on, you two. Let's get on board before there aren't any compartments left."

The three chatted about nothing in particular as they walked to the train. Harry felt a pair of eyes on him and turned just in time to see Simon turn away from him.

_'Simon is a very complex boy._' Harry thought to himself, _'I hope he doesn't have an episode like the one in Diagon Alley. The other students would laugh him into an early grave. I think I'll make it a point to help him out as much as possible.'_

"Earth to Harry!" Hermione broke his introspect.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"I was asking you about Simon." she said with exasperation, though her tone became more teasing. "It's obvious you're taken with him. You haven't stopped staring at him since you got here."

Harry turned pink at her comment, proving that he was taken with the boy.

"I knew it!" Hermione squealed.

"Shhh!" Ron silenced her, "This is not the place to be talking about such things. Wait until we get to our compartment where we'll have some privacy."

Hermione looked around quickly to see if anyone might have noticed her outburst, but if they had, they obviously thought nothing of it.

The three friends got their trunks loaded and stowed and soon settled themselves in their compartment, Ron sitting _very_ close to Hermione. She smiled, picked up his arm and put it around her shoulder. Ron went pink and inhaled sharply, but soon relaxed and pulled her in closer to him.

"So is it true, do you like Simon?" Ron asked.

Harry went pink again, "We have a lot in common in the fact that we grew up friendless, among other things."

"Yeah, but that shade of red all over your face tells a different story." Hermione teased a little bit. 

"Well... He's kind of cute," Harry admitted to Hermione's delight, "But it's not like I've fallen completely in love with him. I don't even know if he's gay much less gay friendly."

"That reminds me," Ron interjected, "I told you this before, but I think I should say it again. Be very careful about what you do. I'm not sure how most muggles react to homosexuals, but in the wizarding world, it's almost as bad as being a Death Eater. Worse if you're facing a Death Eater. I heard stories about attacks on people just rumored to be gay."

"God, what is wrong with society? It's not like being gay is a disease." Hermione groused.

"I agree with you, but my family is in the strict minority. Even the wizards who are muggle-friendly tend to distance themselves from it if they can. Though they're more likely to accept it than some of the older pureblood families."

"I'm not about to come out at dinner just for the fun of it, Ron" Harry assured his friend, "A lot of muggles share that sentiment even in this day and age."

"That's good." Ron sighed in relief.

"But what if it comes out anyway, Ron? What would you do?"

Ron looked at his girlfriend with hurt in his eyes at her unsaid inference that he might abandon Harry, "I would support him to no end."

Hermione's eyes watered when she saw the emotion her question evoked. She pulled him into her embrace and kissed him full on the mouth. He instantly forgot why he was upset. In fact he forgot about a lot of things in that moment. Breathing was one of them.

Finally she broke the kiss and he inhaled deeply, his face going from purple to just red. Harry couldn't help but laugh hysterically at the blank yet satisfied look on Ron's flushed face. Hermione stifled some giggles herself. Ron just smiled and pulled Hermione back into his arms as the train gave its departing whistle.

* * *

Shortly before lunch, Harry wandered his way around the train, mostly to give Ron and Hermione some "snogging time" as he would put it. He wisely kept that comment to himself, however. Hermione could have as short if not shorter temper than Ron.

He ran into a lot of his fellow students. Most just said hello and then went back to their own conversations. As he passed one compartment, he noticed that Simon was in it, reading. Harry decided he'd get to know Simon a little bit better.

He knocked quietly on the door then opened it. Simon looked up and smiled when he saw it was Harry.

"Hi," He said pleasantly, "Come on in."

Harry shut the door behind him, and it was then that he noticed Kim sleeping on the bench across from Simon.

"He fell asleep about half an hour ago," Simon explained, "From our conversation, he woke up too early this morning because he was so excited."

"I remember my first day. I was so nervous. I thought someone made a huge mistake by picking me to go to Hogwarts." Harry sat down on the other side of the bench Simon was sitting on.

"I can empathize. I'm still not sure if this was the right decision."

"It is, you'll see." Harry said confidently, hoping he'd give Simon more confidence in himself. "What are you reading?"

"Hogwarts: A History," Harry caught his laugh before he could embarrass Simon or himself, "I figured I should learn as much as possible, that way, hopefully I won't be too much out of place."

With a smile, Harry replied diplomatically, "You and Hermione are probably the only students in this generation who've read that book. At least, the only two who admit it."

Simon looked perplexed.

"Don't worry. We always make fun of Hermione about it, but more often than not, it comes back to haunt us as she's proven right. I think you and her would get along pretty good."

"Maybe," Simon said delicately. He didn't want to offend Harry by saying anything rude about his friends.

"Why do you dislike them?" Harry asked.

"Who?"

"Ron and Hermione. They were trying to be friendly and you ran off like they were going to eat you."

Simon inhaled deeply and pondered just how much he should say to Harry. It wasn't that Harry didn't already know about Simon's panic attacks or why he got them, but he really liked Harry and didn't want to anger him because he wasn't comfortable around them. After a brief but intense mental argument, he decided that honesty was the best policy in this case.

"Well... They scare me. At least Ron does. I know he apologized and I believe he meant it, but I'm just not comfortable around him. Truthfully, I'm not really comfortable around most people. Just the ones I know and like well."

Harry wasn't offended. In fact he could understand a little where Simon was coming from, but he knew that Simon needed to break out of that shell if he was going to survive Hogwarts. So he acted slightly offended.

"Oh," Harry said sadly, getting up to leave, "I didn't realize I made you uncomfortable. I'll go now."

"No, Wait!" Simon paused, "Um... I'm not really uncomfortable around you. I just.."

"Just what?" Harry asked passively.

"It's just that... I'd like you to stay and talk. If you wouldn't mind that is. I want to get to know you better. I mean, we already know a lot about each other's past, but that's it. We don't really KNOW each other."

"To know me is to know my friends, Simon," Harry said seriously, "I know it's difficult for you and you know I know why. But you've got to learn to trust sometime."

He turned to leave again.

"Please stay," Simon almost pleaded. Almost. "I could use the practice."

Harry pondered for a second. Here he had a perfect opportunity to force Simon out of his shell. But he had to be careful about it or Simon would retreat even further.

After some quick thinking, Harry decided on a course that he hoped would benefit everyone, though it would mean giving an ultimatum. Harry knew that friendships didn't do well under ultimatums. But he knew that this would be worth the risk. Simon looked like he wanted friends so badly.

"Okay," He said, sitting back down on the bench, "I'll stay, but on one condition: You have to try and make friends with Ron and Hermione during lunch. If it doesn't work out, so be it. I'll still be your friend but it's a two way street. You have to at least make an effort. I know Ron and Hermione will do the same."

Simon thought for a moment. He knew this was a test of trust. If he said no, then Harry would assume that he didn't trust him. That wouldn't necessarily end their friendship right there, but it would seriously strain the seeds planted just two days earlier.

On the other hand, did Simon really trust Harry? He wasn't completely sure. He reviewed how they met in his mind, how Harry had sat and talked with him about his life. After mere moments, Simon decided that although he didn't trust Harry implicitly, he was worth the risk.

"O-okay. I'll try."

Harry beamed. "Excellent! I'll go and get them and we can all have lunch together."

Simon smiled and nodded, though once Harry had left, he exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He put his book aside and then dug through his trunk and pulled out a brown paper bag containing his lunch. He opened it up to discover not only sandwiches and some fruit, but also a small bag of candies.

Simon smiled at the warm thought the candies provoked. His foster mother always said he was sweeter than a bag of candy and packed one in his lunch every time he went away for an extended time, namely summer computer camp and university. He would wait to open the bag until after lunch though. That way he could share it with Harry and perhaps Ron and Hermione as well.

When the compartment door opened, Simon turned to see three figures standing in the doorway. Only the were not the three he was expecting...

* * *

"Oh, hello," Simon said with a surprised smile.

Two of the three figures were very large and menacing whereas the third looked to be only slightly bigger than Simon. However, the sneer on his face indicated that he was the most menacing of all.

"I've never seen you on this train before," The platinum blond boy drawled, "I know everyone in my year and you're not one of them."

"No," Simon said truthfully, "I'm new."

"You don't sound like a transfer student from Beaubatons or Durmstrang. What school are you transferring in from?"

"Oxford," Simon said plainly, as if it were nothing special.

"Oxford! That's a muggle school!" The blond exclaimed, disgust apparent on his face.

"Well... yes. University to be more specific." Simon replied.

"University? I don't believe it. How old are you?"

"I'm fifteen."

"And you were in university?"

"Yes," Simon answered, getting just a little nervous, though he was careful not to let it show, "Though I was only in for one year. Since I got my acceptance letter to Hogwarts this summer, I decided that it would be better to wait until I'm older before I go back."

"You got your letter _this_ year? Impossible."

Simon shrugged, "I don't know how it's supposed to work. All I know is I got a letter dated this year saying I was accepted as a first year student."

The two large boys behind the smaller blond snickered. Simon sighed slightly but otherwise showed little reaction.

"Well I can't help that they didn't send me an acceptance letter until this year. Snicker all you want but I plan to graduate with my intended class. I suppose that means your class."

"A mudblood such as yourself will never be in the same class as us purebloods." The blond drawled viciously.

Simon's heart jumped at the venomous look coming from the boys now. He thought quickly, trying to come up with a reply that would get them to ease off. He didn't have to think long, as a voice from outside the compartment caught everyone's attention.

"MALFOY!" Harry yelled, causing all three bullies and even Simon to jump in surprise.

Draco turned to see his nemesis just outside the compartment, fuming. Draco paused for a second to collect himself. Harry had _never_ looked at him with such hostility before.

"Well if it isn't Potty and..." Draco began to drawl out his usual opening insult but was interrupted by Harry putting his wand not three centimeters away from Draco's face.

"I had hoped you would have learned your lesson last year, Malfoy," Harry said with conviction and a cold seriousness, "You and your attitude are in the distinct minority, and I will not put up with it any longer."

Draco's eyes narrowed at being reminded of the humiliation he and his two bodyguards had experienced when they were all hit by various curses and hexes. And he absolutely seethed at Harry's threat. Crabbe and Goyle weren't too happy about it either.

"Big words, Potter. Perhaps if you backed them up in a _real_ wizard's duel, I might begin to respect you."

"I'm not going to fall for your juvenile tricks this time, Malfoy. This game is old and I'm tired of playing. Now leave." Harry's tone was harsh.

Draco wasn't stupid. He was a predator, and as such, he could see the hunger in Harry's eyes. Hunger for blood. He noticed that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had their wands out, too, looking ready and very willing for a fight.

Overall, it was a bad situation for Draco, but mainly because Harry's wand was poised at point blank range. Draco would have no time to dodge.

"Suit yourself, Potter," He said with a slow grin that even the devil would fear, motioning for Vincent and Gregory to back down, "No more games." His eyes seemed to turn an even colder grey.

Harry's lip twitched at the inferred threat, but his wand hand was steady, and he didn't lower it until Malfoy and his goons were well into the next train car.

Simon cleared his throat, breaking the silence that was pressing against everyone. Harry looked at him with concern.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Simon told the half-truth. He wasn't hurt nor was he having a panic attack, but he was beginning to doubt if coming to Hogwarts was a good idea in the first place.

"Sorry you had to witness that," Harry said finally coming into the compartment all the way with Hermione and Ron following.

"Bloody git, he is." Ron seethed.

"Who is he anyway?" Simon asked. 

"That was Draco Malfoy," Hermione explained before Harry and Ron could start throwing out their profane nicknames for the blond Slytherin, "The two goons with him are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. Bad lot, all of them. They're all in Slytherin house and well they should be."

"Too right," Ron agreed, "That ferret is slimier than a slug."

Harry nodded in agreement and Hermione couldn't find a legitimate reason to dispute her boyfriend's claim.

"Well I agree he was rather unpleasant. What's a mudblood anyway?"

Ron scowled even more giving pause to Simon continuing this conversation.

"It's the worst thing you can call wizard or witch who isn't a pureblood."

"Ah, well then I will refrain from using it," Simon replied, "It seemed rather derogatory. Won't you sit down?"

Harry sat next to Simon while Hermione and Ron sat across from them, squeezed in close as Kim Vermont was still sprawled out on the bench, asleep.

"Looks like you have competition for deadest sleeper, Ron." Hermione teased.

"He slept through that whole thing?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Well it's not like he heard anything," his girlfriend explained, "Should we wake him for lunch?"

"Probably a good idea. I will, I know a little sign language." Simon volunteered.

He reached over and tapped Kim on the foot, lightly. Kim stirred and stretched, opening his eyes to see who disturbed his slumber. Simon signed something that the others couldn't really understand. Kim nodded then sat up and wiped the sleep from his eyes. It was then that he noticed the compartment was fuller than before.

He smiled at everyone, though he did a double take when he saw Harry. He tried to keep himself from acting to shocked, but he was a waking eleven year old so he was not entirely cognizant. He blushed and turned away when it as obvious that he'd been staring.

Instead, he dug through his things and brought out his lunch. He tore into it as if he'd not eaten in days.

"Hungry kid." Ron commented.

Everyone else broke open their lunches. Hermione had simple peanut butter and marmalade while Harry and Ron both had bologna. Ron was pleased that he didn't get corned beef this year.

"One more good thing about having you stay with us, Harry, is that mom won't give either one of us corned beef."

Harry smiled, his mouth full of sandwich. Simon ate his own ham sandwich and Kim also had a peanut butter and marmalade sandwich.

The plump witch with the food cart was soon passing by.

"Anything off the cart dears?" She asked pleasantly.

Harry went straight for the cart and bought an assortment of pasties, Cauldron Cakes and other sweets for himself, Ron and Hermione. Hermione bought some pumpkin juice for everyone including Simon and Kim. Simon bought one Cauldron cake and a pumpkin pasty for himself.

When Kim looked at the cart, he considered buying a couple of the candies, but then Simon's cat Othello brushed by him, reminding him that he was saving his pocket money for an owl. He bought only one piece of candy off the cart.

The plump woman continued her trek down the rest of the train as the five students finished their lunch. Kim gave a thank you to Hermione, which caused her to blush. She had thought he was blowing her a kiss. Simon noticed it instantly and explained it, saving her and Kim from embarrassment.

The five talked about all the various things they had to talk about. Ron and Hermione were fascinated to find out that Simon was a first year despite his age. However, everyone was shocked to hear that Simon had gone to Oxford University, even if it was only for his freshman year.

"You'll definitely be the smartest in your year, probably in the whole school even." Hermione said with honesty.

"Do my ears deceive me? Hermione Granger admitting that she's not the smartest person in school?"

Ron got a playful slap in the arm for his comment though chuckling along with him and Harry.

"I never recall actually ever saying that I _was_ the smartest student... even though it was true."

"Was being the operative word." Harry added. Simon blushed and tried to remain inconspicuous.

"Oh now look what you've done, Harry." Hermione glared lightly in jest, "Simon, don't mind them. They just can't appreciate what it means to actually have intelligence."

Ron and Harry both looked properly scandalized. Ron immediately retaliated by tickling her.

"I'll give you intelligent!"

After a few moments, she was begging for mercy lest she relieve herself. Ron normally would have continued, but this was his girlfriend and it wouldn't do well to make her soil her self. She tried to feign offense, but her ear-to-ear grin and occasional giggle gave her away. Finally she just reached over and grabbed Ron into a very deep kiss. Ron went as red as his hair.

Kim couldn't help but giggle and the other boys in the compartment followed suit, going into outright guffaws when the couple finally came up for air and both of them were in a blissful stupor.

* * *

As the Hogwarts Express continued its journey, Simon met a lot of Harry's friends and family as they popped in and out of the compartment. He and Hermione found that they had a lot of common interests academic wise. Ron couldn't help but snicker when he saw Simon's copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. Hermione rolled her eyes and ignored him.

By the time the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, Simon had definitely made three new friends in Ron, Hermione and Kim.

The train pulled to a stop and a voice was heard over a non-existent speaker system.

"All students may now leave the train. Please leave your luggage, they will be taken to the castle separately."

Simon had to translate that for Kim, who was trying to grab his trunk from underneath the bench. With a mildly red face, Kim smiled then went towards the exit.

A gargantuan man easily the size of three men wide and two tall was over at one end of the platform yelling "Firs' years! Firs' years this way!" Simon took Kim by the hand and walked him over to the hulking man.

"Firs' years only, lad. You should know tha' by now."

"I am a first year, sir." Simon said meekly.

Hagrid gave the boy a sizing up.

"So yer Simon. Heard about yeh. Well C'mon, then. Firs' years! All firs' years this way!"

An average looking man came up to Simon and Kim and started signing.

[Kim, I'm going up to the castle with the older students. Will you be okay?]

Kim nodded then pointed to Simon. [He knows some sign language. If I need anything, he'll help me.]

Simon nodded his agreement. Aaron just smiled and waved as he went off to the carriages.

"Firs' years, this way! Mind yer step now!" As soon as Hagrid had all of the first years following him, he walked them down a steep narrow path.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec. Jus' round this bend here."

All the new students let out a very audible "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore.

"C'mon, then. Mind yer step. All right there, Simon? How bout you, lad? Careful now. All right, everyone safely aboard? Right then ¯ FORWARD!"

The fleet of boats smoothly glided across the lake despite the small waves made by the light wind. All the students were silently staring in awe at the castle in front and above them.

"Heads down!" Hagrid called out. They all ducked their as the passed through a curtain of ivy that hid a secret tunnel underneath the castle. Soon they stopped at a small harbor.

"All right then, everyone okay? This way!" Hagrid led them up a path in the rocks until they came out onto a grass field, the castle before them. One flight of stone steps later and the first years were standing at a huge oak door.

"Everyone here. Good." Hagrid knocked loudly three times on the heavy door.

The door swung open at once and before them stood a tall, black-haired witch, looking very stern.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid said.

"Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here." She said as she opened the door fully. The entrance hall lay before them and astonished the new students even more.

They heard voices from the Great Hall and Simon figured that they went the long way so that the upperclassmen could have time to get seated properly. Professor McGonagall led them to a small side chamber of the hall. They crowded in closely, some of them braving peeks through the curtain separating the small room from the hall.

Simon saw Aaron Devlin enter the room and walk up to him and Kim. He waved and said he would be translating for Kim the rest of the evening, so Simon could relax. Simon knew he couldn't, but it had nothing to do with interpreting for Kim.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat grabbing all of the student's attention, save for Kim, who was splitting between her and Aaron.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall started her usual speech. Aaron paid close attention to her mouth and translated everything for Kim. She, in turn, made sure that Aaron could see her mouth at all times, even though she would look at the other students.

When she was finished, she disappeared out into the Great Hall while the first years lined up. Soon, they were all brought out into the hall. Aaron pointed out where he would be standing to Kim. That way, he could see what was being said and then translate for Kim.

Then Professor Dumbledore stood and said a few words.

"Good evening, students. I know that I usually speak after the sorting ceremony and feast, however as time is ever changing, so too must we be.

"I will start by bringing mention to the gentleman standing on the main floor here. His name is Aaron Devlin and he is an interpreter. As you can see, he is using what muggles call sign language. It is a form of communication so that those without voice may speak and those without hearing may listen.

"Which brings me to one of our newest students. He is deaf. He cannot hear and subsequently has difficulty speaking with great clarity. However, like all of you he has the power to become a great wizard, and as it is Hogwarts charter to educate young wizards and witches, regardless of background, so too shall we teach him. I expect that every courtesy will be made for him.

"So now that we have that out of the way, let us begin the sorting ceremony."

Professor McGonagall brought forth a three-legged stool, upon which sat the infamous sorting hat.

**[A/N: I didn't try to come up with a song for the hat because I don't think in rhymes. Sorry if you feel let down]**

The hat broke out into its annual song and was greeted by excited applause. Then McGonagall called out the first name.

"Avalon, Katrina!"

The young girl stepped forward and sat on the stool and had the hat placed upon her head. After a few seconds the hat shouted "SLYTHERIN!" Katrina Anderson was treated to a wild applause by the Slytherin table as she joined them.

Several students were called and sorted before it was Simon's turn.

"Bergstead, Simon!" Professor McGonagall called out.

Simon noticed there was a lot of gossiping going about, but he figured that was because of his age, though he heard a snippet of Hufflepuff conversation nearby.

"..as in _THE_ Bergsteads?"

He didn't have time to ponder it before the hat was placed on his head. Unlike the eleven-year-olds, Simon's head was large enough so that the hat did not engulf him.

"Ah, young Simon Bergstead," The hat thought to him, causing Simon to flinch a little, "It's a pleasure to see your family tree still has some life in it yet. Though if what I see is true, perhaps you will truly be the last Bergstead. You are quite taken with Harry Potter."

"How.."

"Not that I blame you," the hat interrupted Simon's thought, "He's quite an interesting lad. A word of advice: Be careful whom you tell. Your kind is not regarded well in this world. An unfortunate fact that no mere hat may change. But be that as it may, you are doubtlessly a RAVENCLAW!"

Simon removed the hat with a bewildered look on his face. The Ravenclaw table was bursting with applause at their new addition. Most of the Slytherin table was staring death at him, but he barley noticed. He was too nervous about everything the hat had said.

He watched the rest of the sorting ceremony with a certain detachment. Eventually he relaxed and was cheering with the rest of the table when Rogassi, Angelino was sorted into their house.

Soon it became time for Kim's sorting.

"Vermont, Kimber!" The professor called out. Aaron pointed to Kim and the boy wandered over to the three-legged stool. As the hat was being placed upon his head it jumped slightly in McGonagall's hand.

"Great Merlin!" It said almost inaudibly. Only McGonagall heard it and she dropped the hat the rest of the way, not sure exactly what was going on.

"By Merlin's ghost," it thought, causing the small boy to start, "I had not expected one of your kind here, sire."

This confused Kim. Aaron told him the hat could read minds but he wasn't expecting this.

"Forgive me, sire. I am just startled to see one of your kind after all this time. I had thought the Knights of Merlin's Keep all dead."

Kim was even more shocked. No one was supposed to know about the Knights.

"I _am_ no one, sire. I am merely a hat. A hat that once belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself. One of the founders of your knight's order. I know all that he knew about the Knights."

"Then you know why I am here." Kim thought back.

"I know why you think you're here. You are torn, sire. You have two desires. One is to become a wizard; the other is to fufill your duty to the Knights. To watch and protect Harry Potter. However, there is a small problem. Harry is not everything you think him to be, sire."

"He wears a crown of lightning."

"In one point of view, but it may not mean everything you believe it to mean."

"What else could it mean?" Kim was perplexed.

"Such is the quandry of all who study legends; No one really knows. But I do know one thing, you are unique among the Knights. You are the first and only true wizard to ever be born of their blood. Such an event should not go to waste."

"I need to protect Harry," Kim was firm in his thoughts.

"You do not belong in Gryffindor, sire. You are brave, but your loyalty and willingness to work for yourself shadows that. You would be best suited for Hufflepuff. It is there that you will become all that you can become, and it is there that you will serve the Knights best."

"Is Harry in Hufflepuff?"

"No, he is in Gryffindor..." Kim managed to cut the hat off for once.

"Then that is where I should be."

"But, sire..."

"NOW!" Kim thought hard, having no concept of loud.

The hat squeaked audibly, but before anyone could register it, the hat shouted louder than it ever had in recent history "GRYFFINDOR!"

When McGonagall picked the hat off the boy's head, the hat seemed to scramble away from him as much as possible, almost folding itself inside out.

Aaron need not have pointed to the Gryffindor table, as everyone there was cheering and waving him over. Kim had a strong sense of foreboding, that perhaps he made the wrong choice, but he decided that it was just nerves and that his duty to the Knights was to important to worry about such things. What's done is done.

Professor McGonagall took the Sorting Hat and the three-legged stool out of the hall while Professor Dumbledore stood once again.

"Now that we have all our new students sorted and settled, it is time we introduced our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, William Weasley."

There was a healthy amount of applause when Bill stood up, and even a few cat calls from some of the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor girls. Bill was suitably red faced in typical Weasley fashion, but smiled nonetheless before siting back down."

"And on that note, tuck in!"

A thousand students dug into the wonderful meal that suddenly appeared in front of them. Simon was asked the obvious question about why he was starting so late, but no one at his table reacted negatively. In fact, they all encouraged him on, especially after finding out that he'd gone to Oxford.

Kim on the other hand was doing his best to fit in, but it was extremely difficult having to sign and try and eat as well. Aaron was having difficulty keeping up with all the students who were talking to Kim, but the Gryffindors were patient and waited their turns to talk.

After dessert was cleared away and the plates were left clean, Dumbledore stood once again for his usual beginning of the year speech. His face was grim and everyone but the first years knew what he was about to say.

"As I told most of you last year, Voldemort has returned."

Even knowing he was going to say it, a lot of the students gasped or cringed when he said the Dark Lord's name.

"He rose again and killed one of your classmates for no other reason than he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I tell you again, not only so that the first years may hear it, but also to also remind you why you are here.

"We must remain ever vigilant lest the darkness consume all that is good.

"Having said that, I have the usual announcements. Mr. Filch, the caretaker has added self-hurling water balloons and Focet Lawcett's Pocket Rockets to the list of banned items. The list is available for viewing in Mr. Filch's office. He also reminds you that there is to be no magic cast in the hallways between classes.

"A reminder that Hogsmeade weekend visits are open to third years and above only, and lastly, the forest beyond the grounds is strictly forbidden.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, off to bed with the lot of you."

The Great Hall emptied as the Prefects took their respective houses to their dorms. Ron and Harry were shocked to see that Hermione had been made a prefect, but it was more because she hadn't told them.

"I wanted to surprise you. Relax, I'm not going to turn into a walking rulebook like Percy."

"That'll be the day." A fourth year girl muttered to her one of her friends. It was overheard by some of the Ravenclaws who were walking with them part way to their own dorm, and the sentiment was received with proper amusement. Hermione just ignored all of it.

As the two houses separated, Harry smiled at Simon.

"See you around, Simon."

"Bye, Harry." Simon smiled and waved back.

Soon the students of Hogwarts were all snuggled in bed, dreaming of the days to come.

* * *

"Mr. Potter, a moment of your time, please." Professor McGonagall had intercepted Harry before he could climb the stairs to his dormitory.

"Yes, Professor?" Harry asked cautiously. He couldn't have gotten into trouble already, could he?

"Professor Dumbledore would like to speak with you." She said passively.

"Yes, Professor." Harry said as he fell behind Professor McGonagall.

Harry internally blanched that he couldn't get some well-needed sleep, but knew that Dumbledore wanted to know more details on the summer's events. Best to get it out now then have to deal with it in the morning when he had classes.

Harry thought he knew most of the ins and outs of Hogwarts, yet McGonagall took him through hallways and corridors that he swore he'd never seen before, and they had reached the Gargoyle guarding Professor Dumbledore's office in record time.

"Drooble's Best Blowing Gum." McGonagall said with some exasperation. Harry had the feeling that she thought Professor Dumbledore's obsession with sweets was rather childish. The gargoyle stepped aside with speed and deftness that Harry thought not possible from a stone statue. They rode the moving stairs up to Dumbledore's office where the door was already open. Albus was sitting at his desk, waiting patiently.

"Harry Potter as requested, Professor." McGonagall announced leaving the moment Albus nodded his acknowledgement. He motioned for Harry to take a seat. When he did so, Fawkes, Dumbledore's Phoenix familiar flew up and perched on Harry's shoulder.

"Hello, Fawkes." Harry said with a smile, gently petting the bird's soft plumage. The bird made odd cooing noises but Harry could tell they were signs of contentment.

"I think you know why I called you up here." Professor Dumbledore said with concern, though the twinkle in his eyes was ever present at seeing his familiar and student bonding so comfortably.

"Yes sir," Harry answered emotionlessly, "You want to know more about what happened over the summer."

"To start with. Why don't you go ahead and tell me everything that happened."

Harry sighed, but before Dumbledore could try and convince him the importance of it, Harry launched into everything that happened that summer, including his run in with Simon at Diagon Alley. He omitted the fact that he was bisexual and the part about his more pleasurable dreams. After he was finished, Harry felt as if a weight had been lifted off his heart.

"I see," Dumbledore said, "The world does seem to conspire against you, Harry. I fear that this year may be your most difficult yet."

Harry's heart fell. He was expecting consolation, but instead got confirmation.

"Why can't I just have a normal life?" he said in frustration.

"Those who are bound by destiny have the hardest lives of all," The wise professor replied sympathetically, "It is unfortunate that you must suffer the burden of destiny, but there is little I can do about it."

Harry sighed and steeled himself against getting even more upset. He was fifteen now and he wanted to show Dumbledore that he was strong. If he were meant to be 'The-Boy-Who-Lived' then by god he'd do it properly. Though truth be told, he was scared out of his wits.

Dumbledore's lips twitched into an unnoticed smile for the briefest of seconds as he saw Harry trying to be brave.

"So what does all of this mean?" Harry asked, sounding surer than he felt, "It can't have had anything to do with Voldemort, my scar never hurt."

"It does not, as yet," The headmaster shook his head slightly, "However, knowing that he now has a new body, you can be sure that he will make every effort to come after you again. It would seem likely that he will find out about it soon enough, however, we will have to deal with that later.

"For now, I want you to rest and concentrate on your studies. I must look into these events further before I can tell you more."

Harry suppressed his complaints as the soft look on Dumbledore's face told him that he understood completely. Instead he nodded.

"If there's nothing more, Professor?" Harry asked to be dismissed.

"Not a this time, Harry. Sleep well."

"Thank you, Professor. You, too." Fawkes fluttered of Harry's shoulder as he stood and left for bed.

When they were completely alone, Albus turned to his familiar.

"It looks possible that we may venturing on a three front war, Fawkes." He said sadly.

Fawkes cooed remorsefully, but soon he was singing softly, his song sending waves of comfort throughout the professor's old body.


	9. Day of firsts

Fan fiction: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental.

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned.

AN: This story is a work in progress and though I am slowly completing it, I have many other things of higher priority (like school) that I must do first. I hope you will forgive my infrequent updates and more importantly, I hope you will enjoy the story. Please read & review.

* * *

Simon woke much earlier than his dorm mates. His adoptive parents were early birds and though morning wasn't his favorite time of day, he had gotten into the habit of waking early. It was especially useful when he was a student at Oxford so Simon didn't see a problem with continuing it. He took a nice long hot shower and was ready to face his day.

He looked at his schedule and collected the books that he would need for the day, then re-traced his steps to the Great Hall. When he got to the main stairwell, he noticed the stairs were different. The staircase he swore he came up from the night previous now had a new originating hallway. Just then, he heard a low rumbling above his head. He looked up to see another staircase moving.

"Wonderful," he muttered to himself, "Now how am I supposed to get to the great hall?"

He pondered the problem a moment then climbed a staircase that he noticed connected to another one, that was connected to the hallway that he knew lead to the Great Hall. As he was walking down the second staircase, it began to shift and he found himself in an opposing hallway to the one he wanted. Not one to give up easily, he tried again, only this time he would have to switch staircases three times. Simon had made it to the last leg of that trek when the staircase shifted once more, putting him back where he started quite a few minutes earlier.

"This is very annoying."

"You get used to it."

Simon spun around toward the voice that surprised him. He smiled broadly at Harry, not entirely noticing Ron and Hermione trying not to laugh. Harry also didn't notice Hermione or Ron as he was smiling just as broadly to Simon.

"So how does one get to the Great Hall?" Simon asked.

"At the moment, we take this stairwell to the charms corridor and walk around to the North wing stairs. Those don't move very often and even when they do, there's always a connection to where you need to go. We take those stairs to the main hall then walk back to the Great Hall."

"And is that the only back up route?"

"Oh heavens no," Harry grinned, "There are at least four different ways to get from one place to another and they change daily. You'll figure it all out sooner or later. Care to join us on the way down?"

Simon grinned happily, "Sure."

The four made their way down the charms corridor, Ron and Hermione walking a few paces behind Simon and Harry. The whispered their thoughts on the two before them.

"Is it just me or have they both got it bad?" Ron asked quietly.

"It's certainly not just you. But I've seen this type of infatuation before. Simon just might be grateful to Harry for helping him in Diagon Alley, but Harry has definitely flipped for Simon."

"Should we try and get them together?"

"No," Hermione said firmly, "We definitely don't want to interfere. If anything goes wrong it will cause a lot of hard feelings. I don't want to do that to Harry or Simon."

"Okay," Ron whispered, "But I reserve the right to lock them both in a closet if they take to long to figure it out."

"Noted. Now give me a kiss before they think we're plotting against them."

Ron wasn't about to argue, so he leaned over and gave her a sweet but passionate kiss. When their lips parted, he had a sly grin on his face.

"You're just making up excuses to kiss me. We ARE plotting against them."

"I didn't hear you complain." Hermione said sweetly as she gave him another quick peck.

Simon leaned over to whisper into Harry's ear.

"Is it just me, or do they have it bad?"

Harry whispered back conspiratorially, "You should have seen what I had to put up with for the past four years. Theirs is truly a love/hate relationship. I figure it's either going to last forever or they're going to kill each other by years end."

Simon snickered. "I hope there isn't to much bloodshed. I'm a bit squeamish."

Harry couldn't help but snicker in response. "Stop, you're going to get me in trouble."

Soon, the quartet found themselves at the Great Hall. Most of the students were already there enjoying breakfast. Apparently, Simon's staircase adventure had taken longer than he realized.

One of the Ravenclaws, the Head Boy Alastaire Orichalum to be specific, waved Simon over to the small group sitting at their table. Simon gave a smile of thanks to his new trio of friends and joined his housemates. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked over to the Gryffindor table claiming their usual spots.

"Blimey, Harry, you seem way too happy this morning." Dean Thomas commented as Harry sat with what the Americans called a 'huge shit-eating grin', "What's gotten into you?"

"Ron over did it on a cheering charm." Harry lied with practiced ease as he sat down. Ron just gave a nervous chuckle as he sat beside Harry.

* * *

"Simon, come sit here," Alastaire called.

Simon joined his housemates as they held their daily breakfast discussion.

"Simon, this is Padma Patil, fifth year prefect, that's Oslo Larson,and last but definitely not least is Forest Greenleaf, both sixth year prefects."

"My parents are hippies," Forest said flatly before Simon could even ponder to ask, "Our family's surname was actually Green before they changed it."

"I see," Simon said, though it was patently obvious that he didn't, "Such a heady group to sit with."

"Don't worry," Forest quipped with a sly grin, "We don't bite... hard"

He was instantly rewarded by a kick from Oslo, a glare from Padma and an exasperated sigh from Alastaire.

"We were just having a discussion on Muggle science versus magic," Alastaire continued, moving the conversation back on track, "Care to join in? I'm outnumbered three to one and I could use the back up."

"Um.. Sure," he said slightly nervously as he sat down.

"Alastaire exaggerates when he says it's three against one," Padma said, "I for one think that magic is superior to Muggle science over all, but I do not discount the benefits that have come from it. After all, the Muggles have done quite well for themselves with electricity."

"Science is the rape of the mother earth," Forest piped up, "At least that's what mum and dad says. I can't say I entirely disagree with them."

"Science isn't all that bad, Forest," Alastaire rebutted, "Take telly for example. World wide communications both visually and audibly. The Wizarding Wireless only does audio."

"And have you seen the things they show on telly? Death, mayhem and destruction, and that's just the fiction shows," was Forest's response.

"And frankly, I'm not impressed with the way Muggles completely rely on their vaunted technology. Why if they ever lost their oh so powerful electricity, their society would plunge into utter chaos," Oslo finally spoke, his voice reminding Simon of the lesser noble born that he attended Oxford with.

"And just what would you do without your wand, Oslo?" Alastaire snapped a bit harshly, "What if a Death Eater were here right now aiming to kill you. What would you do if you didn't have your wand? The Muggles may rely on electricity too much, but no more or less than wizards rely on their magic."

"That's not the same thing." Oslo replied, obviously offended at the comparison, "Magic is a part of us. It's who we are. Are Muggles made of electricity?"

"From one point of view, yes," Simon said meekly. All four pairs of eyes turned his way expectantly. Oslo's held an edge to them but the others were just curious as to what Simon meant.

"Well, what I mean is, the brain communicates with the rest of the body using electrical impulses carried through nerve endings. Everything we feel is transmitted through those electrical impulses, Muggles and wizards alike. So in a sense you're right about Muggles, Oslo. They can not live without electricity, but then, neither can we."

"Ha! Case in point," Alastaire slapped his hand down on the table to emphasize what he thought to be a definite victory, "And the only way we know all that is because of science. Even wizards use the scientific method when creating spells and potions."

"Fine, I'll grant you that," Oslo almost hissed, clearly not happy about having to capitulate the point, "However electricity aside, they are still too reliant on their technological gadgets. Bloody waste of time, most of them are. Anything a Muggle can do a wizard could do ten times better. Wizards have always been greater at their achievements than Muggles."

"Umm.. I can't totally agree with that, mate," Forest spoke, "Shakespeare, Brahms, Beethoven. Name one wizarding writer or composer that has even come close to achieving that kind of fame. But by far, Muggles have have perfected the art and science of dolling out death and destruction on a whim."

"What about You-Know-Who?" Padma asked, "He was a genocidal maniac."

"Did he manage to wipe out six million people even in his heyday?" Forest asked bitterly, "I'm not saying I'm not scared of the bloke, but he's a rookie compared to Hitler and his boys, and as disgusting as it sounds, atrociously inefficient in comparison."

"You are absolutely right, Forest," Padma agreed haughtily, "That was atrociously disgusting!"

With a slam of her fork, she left the table quickly, stopping only to grab her schedule from the pile.

"And once again, Forest wins the much vaunted and coveted title of thickest Ravenclaw. Good God man you almost sounded like a Slytherin with that one!" Alastaire growled.

"Hey, pardon me for being observant. I wasn't approving it."

"And what is it with you and death, anyway?" asked Oslo, a scornful and superior look forming on his face, "Is that all you can think of is how much death there is in the world?"

"When you blokes can wake up and smell the landfill, let me know, but until then, I have classes."

Forest grabbed his schedule and stormed off in a huff. Simon couldn't help but stare as the boy trudged off.

"I swear that boy gets queerer by the day," Oslo said in his superior tone, "I hope you won't judge the rest of us by him, Simon. You've heard that there's a black sheep in every crowd, well you've just met Ravenclaw's. But it's not his fault, I suppose; his parentage is quite obviously lackluster at best. Frankly it explains a lot, including why he's such a poof."

"Oslo," Alastaire's voice warned

Simon's head snapped back towards Oslo, a look of fear on his face. Oslo easily misinterpreted it.

"Oh yes, he's a poof all right, but don't worry. It's been made very clear what would happen if he made any unwanted advances towards the rest of us."

"Oslo, that's enough." the head boy's tone was icy, but the sixth year ignored him. He leaned in closer to ensure privacy.

"Rumor has it he prefers them young. I heard that he and a Hufflepuff first-"

"OSLO!" Alastaire's yell caught the entire Great Hall's attention, "Twenty points from Ravenclaw and detention!"

The look on the younger boy's face gradually turned from shock to outrage. His lips tightened as he wisely suppressed the urge to argue with the Head Boy. His face flush with fury, Oslo grabbed his schedule and walked briskly out, forcing several Slytherins and Ravenclaws to practically dive out of his way.

The Hall was deadly silent for a brief few seconds, until the headmaster cleared his throat and gave them all a patented look which stated quite clearly that the spectacle was over and that breakfast should continue unabated. The dull roar of conversation once again filled the hall, many of them now centered on speculation as to why the Head Boy had just docked his own house 20 points.

Simon was sure that he witnessed something truly extraordinary even for Hogwarts, though he was not so sure that it was a good thing. Alastaire cleared his throat slightly to get the younger boy's attention.

"If my guess is right, you are the most intelligent person in this school, and as such, have the most potential. It would be a shame if that potential were wasted due to a lack of prudence."

Simon paled and his stomach tightened. He was fearful of Oslo's fury, but it was nothing to what Alastaire was putting forth. He knew exactly what the Head Boy was talking about and he had no desire to see his life, figuratively or otherwise, come to such an abrupt end as was put forth in veiled threat. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Alastaire accepted this with a nod of his own, then purposefully made his way to the private chambers off the Great Hall, where he knew the Headmaster, along with his head of household, Professor Flitwick, would be waiting for an explanation of the morning's outburst.

* * *

Aaron woke up with a stiff back, cursing the soft down mattresses once again. Only after a few stretches and calisthenics did he even feel ready to take a shower. Waking early for just such a purpose, Aaron took a very long hot shower to ease his tight and sore muscles.

When he was well and relaxed, as well as clean, Aaron dried himself, dressed and headed down towards the Great Hall. He didn't rush and the stairs seemed to be in a amicable mood as they hadn't moved while he was walking down them. When he arrived at the Great Hall he scanned the Gryffindor table for Kim, but came up empty. Then he headed towards the head table.

Not all the professors were there, but Aaron didn't really register that information as the only thing he could concentrate on was the fact the chair next to Bill Weasley was empty and he meant to fill it. He sat at the end of the table next to the object of his secret desires and gave the red-headed professor a pleasant smile. The return smile was so intoxicating to Aaron that he almost forgot to breathe. Bill noticed.

"Are you all right?" he asked with some mild concern.

Aaron snapped out of his blissful stupor with a slight gasp.

"Um, yeah," he lied. With Bill this close, he was anything but all right, but it felt good. It felt damn good.

"You're sure?"

"Well I'm a little disoriented," he admitted, adding on a nice pseudo-lie to distract the professor, "It happens whenever I use that hearing spell often or for any great length of time. I'll be okay, but don't be surprised if I zone out or switch gears mid thought."

Bill chuckled and Aaron was glad that he had not yet cast the spell, for Bill's deep chuckle surely would have sent him over the edge, and that would have been quite embarrassing for both of them.

"I'll keep that in mind. Do you have the spell on now?" Bill had made sure that he was keeping eye contact as Dumbledore had explained to all the staff, in case the spell wasn't active.

"No, it's way too early in the morning for that kind of headache, but as long as you look right at me and don't talk with your mouth full, I should have little to no problem understanding you. Heck, even if you look in my general direction I shouldn't have a problem."

Bill furrowed his eyebrows in thought.

"Dumbledore seemed to be very strict in saying we had to look you directly in the eye."

"Yeah, well that's because I'm that strict with him. I wouldn't be if it weren't for that blasted beard of his. Do you have any idea how hard it is to read someone's lips when they're covered in fur?"

Bill stifled a guffaw into a troubled snicker. "I hadn't thought of that."

Aaron was about to say more but he noticed Bill had gotten distracted. Turning his head to where Bill's eyes were he saw Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and the boy who knew sign language all enter the Great Hall. When he turned back, he noticed that Bill's mood seemed to have soured just a little, but in a more melancholy way than anything.

"Are you all right?" Aaron whispered.

Bill just nodded. Aaron noted the lack of response and reacted accordingly; he gave up and changed he subject.

"So you have your first classes today? I know I'll be seeing you with the first year Gryffindors this afternoon. I was wondering if there was anything you and I should go over before class. If I know a little of what to expect, I can be better prepared to translate it for Kim."

"It shouldn't be that difficult," Bill said, melancholy abated for now, "I'm starting the first years on simple curse remedies, especially those that don't involve magic. By second term, I'll move them up to Finite Incantatum and some other generic counter curses, and we'll stick with that for the rest of the year. And for third term, I will be teaching them ways to use both concurrently."

"Hmm..." Aaron nodded his head, "The counter curses will be tricky for Kim. I'd like your permission to start teaching him those now, that way, he should have a good start on them by second term and he won't have to play 'catch up' as much as he will in charms."

Bill nodded, "I don't see a problem with that as long as it doesn't affect his other charms work. I'm not going to grade heavily on the counter curses as they can be very tricky. It's mostly just to introduce the concepts."

"That sounds reasonable to me." Aaron said with a gleam in his eye.

Bill snickered before he could stop himself, while Aaron just grinned like a Cheshire cat. Bill shook his head at Aaron's cheek.

"Dumbledore was right," he said.

"Oh?"

"He said you had a weird sense of humor like that."

"What can I say? It's either that or take the world far too seriously."

"Sounds reasonable," Bill replied with a grin of his own, which was immediately matched by Aaron.

Bill's attention was then caught by a pair of identical snickers from the Gryffindor table. He looked over to see his younger twin brothers turn away guiltily, neither of them trying to hide the amused looks on their faces. Bill scowled.

"What are they up to now?" Aaron asked when he saw the scowl and who it was directed at.

"I have no idea." Bill lied.

Aaron couldn't hear the tone in his voice but the look on Bill's face told him quite the opposite.

"Hey, if something is wrong, maybe I can help."

"Oh it's nothing. Just my entire family seems to be turning against me."

"Correct me if I'm wrong," Aaron replied, "But from what I've heard about the twins, some of it by you I might add, they seem to be against the entire world."

"They are, but I wasn't meaning in that sense. It's just that..." Bill paused as he realized he was about to say far more than he wanted to, "It's complicated." he finally managed.

"Sounds like it," Aaron said in all seriousness, "They certainly seem to keep you on your toes."

Before Bill could respond, a shout from the Ravenclaw table brought all conversation to a halt. Bill's head snapped to the direction of the Head Boy now removing points and assigning a detention to a Ravenclaw sixth year. Aaron may not have heard the shout, but as he noticed all eyes turn, he knew something was up.

The sixth year stormed off without a word and the hall was eerily still until the headmaster cleared his throat. Conversations began once again and Aaron had to wonder just what happened. He passed an inquisitive look to Bill.

"I'm not sure why, but the Head Boy, a Ravenclaw, just took twenty points from his own house."

"On the first day back?" Aaron asked as he watched the Head Boy walk off to speak with the Headmaster, "That can't be good for house morale. One day in and they're already sub-zero points."

"No, no it can't," Bill replied, "Well I have to go get some things ready. I'll see you this afternoon."

With that, Bill left, throwing a venomous glare at his twin brothers, who chose at that point to look suitably chastised. Aaron knew that Bill was hiding something from him. Normally he wouldn't have cared as it obviously wasn't his business, but there was something nagging at the back of his brain that just wouldn't let him let it go.

Aaron's stomach growled angrily, protesting his neglect. He served himself up some breakfast items occasionally glancing at the Weasley twins. No sooner had Bill left the Great Hall then did they huddle close and begin whispering to each other. Aaron couldn't read their lips as a result but he knew they were up to something and Bill would be the target of their machinations. He also had the suspicion that he was going to be involved in it whether he wanted to be or not.

* * *

It was very comfortable in that bed. The soft down mattress nearly swallowed Kim whole and he loved every minute of it. It was for that very reason that Kim woke up much later than he wanted to. Even then it took one of his dorm mates to come fetch him as they were leaving for breakfast.

He rushed getting dressed, not bothering to brush his teeth and barely getting his hair combed. Then he next to ran to catch up with his housemates. Only they had already disappeared, presumably to the Great Hall and now Kim was left by himself to find it.

He meandered down the hallway he thought would take him to the main stairwell. But turn after turn and hall after hall, he couldn't seem to find the stairwell. Worse yet, he wasn't sure if he was going in circles or not. He started to use the paintings as landmarks, but the occupants had a tendency to move in and out. He passed by an old witch of a painting no less than three times and each time she was visiting someone else.

On the verge of just sitting down and starving to death, Kim closed his eyes and counted to ten to calm himself down. When he opened his eyes, the witch who he'd seen several times was waving at him. He smiled and waved back. She frowned and then waved again only it was more to try and get his attention. He stepped closer for a better look.

She wasn't ugly at all. A little on the older side but quite handsome, for a painting. She pointed at him, then at herself, then she pointed to his left and held up three fingers. Kim gathered that she wanted him to follow her but he didn't know what the fingers were for.

She walked of to the left and he followed. They passed a portrait of Melvin the Mediocre and she held up two fingers this time. Now Kim understood, she was telling him how many paintings to count. He followed her past one more painting until they came to the third. This one was titled Gertrude Whifflebach. The witch sat down in the chair and Kim surmised that this was Gertrude. She pointed to the corner of the hall and held up four fingers, then she rose again from her chair and walked off towards where she had pointed.

Kim counted four paintings in this new hallway but the last one was at a dead end hallway. Gertrude, non-chalantly shoving aside the depiction of Death with his scythe, smiled at him. Then she put her fingers to her mouth and looked like she whistled. Kim couldn't hear it but Death dropped his scythe to cover his skeletal ears. Then Kim felt a rumbling and it wasn't all in his stomach.

Part of the dead-end hallway opened up like a door. Past it was a long staircase leading down. It was very dark and Kim felt more than a little trepidation going down this path. Gertrude urged him on. As he stepped into the dark stairwell, torches burst to life, giving Kim a good startle. He could then see that the staircase led down several floors with no landings, but there was a door at the bottom.

With one last look at Gertrude motioning for him to continue, he began his journey downward. It didn't take him too long to reach the bottom. With caution, he opened the door at the bottom of the staircase. He was pleasantly surprised to find himself in the same waiting room just off of the Great Hall he and the other first years were brought to the night before.

He turned back to shut the door but found that the door had not only shut itself, but disappeared as well. Upon closer inspection of the wall he noticed a hairline seem where the door jam would be. Kim made a note to remember that passage way if he ever needed it. Now all he had to do was learn how to whistle.

His stomach growled, reminding him that he needed to eat before the hard work began. He exited himself into the Great Hall earning several funny looks from the student that noticed. He got quite a few from the professors at the head table as well but missed them as his concentration was focused on getting to the Gryffindor table as soon as possible.

He served himself up some eggs and bacon and some orange juice and then dug in like there was no tomorrow. Though he did be carful not to make a mess. After a few hearty bites of his breakfast, Mr. Devlin came up to him.

[When I told your teachers that your resourcefulness would surprise them, I had meant your capacity to learn. How did you get into that very locked room?]

[Secret passage. Gertrude showed me.]

[Gertrude? Who's Gertrude.]

[A painting.]

[I see. Well anyway, your teachers are suitably unsettled and though I personally encourage behaviour that unsettles authority figures, I am in their employ so I have to pretend to be one for the time being. Speaking of which, let's run down the rules.]

[Again?] Kim rolled his eyes.

[Yes!] Aaron added a slightly sharpened move to his hands to embellish his seriousness. [It's very important that you learn these things now. You should have been taught this already but your parents didn't know. Well now we have to make up for it. Now let's go over it.]

With a sigh, Kim repeated the rules that he was to abide by when using Aaron as a translator.

[One, anything and everything I sign in class or in public is considered spoken aloud and you will thusly translate it, meaning I can't have any fun.]

Aaron managed not to laugh at Kim's addition but it was difficult.

[Two, you will translate anything and everything said to me wether I want to see it or not and I am not to turn away or close my eyes. But I still say that's unfair. You get to.]

[Not where it concerns you I don't. Keep going.]

[Three, you are my translator, not my bodyguard. If I get myself into a fight, then I have to get myself out of it while you stand and watch me get slaughtered.]

Aaron was having an increasingly difficult time keeping a straight face. Kim had obviously been picking up a lot of Aaron's bad habits.

[Very good. Now I want you to know that I'm not doing this to be cruel. It's just we need to make as little disruption as possible. Having said that, I'm going to give you an out. When I do this with my hands,] Aaron made a 'T' out of both his hands, using the internationally accepted signal for 'time out', [That means I need to talk to you in private. We sign only, no spoken words or even mouthed. You can use that signal as well, but it is supposed to be for important things and emergencies only. It is not to be used just to chit chat, okay?]

Kim nodded, feeling a little relieved that he could still keep some things private if needed.

[Good. Now hurry up and finish your breakfast. I don't want you to be late for Transfigurations. Professor McGonagall will blame me and punish the both of us.]

[How can she punish you? You're an adult!] Kim signed with a look of disbelief.

[When you see some of the things she can do, you'll never need to ask that question again.]

It did not go unnoticed that Aaron had stopped smiling when he said that.

* * *

Bill's first day as a Professor was not going as well as he had hoped. For one thing, the boys were constantly trying to change the subject back to Bill's normally permanent job as a Gringott's curse-breaker, and though he would have relied on a few anecdotes to make his point, he didn't want to lose sight of why he was there, and that was to teach.

The girls were worse. Nearly all of them seemed to be making eyes at him. That was distracting enough but what was even worse were their constant sighs when he would recount a curse-breaking story.

Come to think of it, some of the guys made eyes at him too, though they were much more discreet about it.

It wasn't until he had the Gryffindor first years that he had a real chance to relax. First years weren't interested in that sort of thing, were they? He prayed they weren't.

The Gryffindors walked into the classroom all looking a little bit nervous. Bill remembered his first day and that he wore the same facial expression. He didn't want them all fearing him but he needed to set the right impression, so he stood his full height and kept his smile friendly but reserved.

"Sit where you feel comfortable, class. I do not assign seating unless given a reason." Bill let his natural bass voice do most of the work. He knew that with his rugged face and deep voice, the children would probably behave themselves for the first few classes, at least until they figured out how far they could push him.

Bill noticed that the deaf boy, Kim Vermont had just entered. The boy looked around for a few seconds and just as Bill was going to see if he needed help, another first year waved him over to sit next to him. The boy complied with a friendly smile.

The professor was just about to ask where Aaron was but that answer became clear as he followed the last student in. He quickly found a spot in the corner so he could face Kim. After barely a second, he furrowed his brow.

"I'm sorry to do this but would it be okay if you two switched places?" he asked the boy who had waved Kim over, "He needs to have as clear view of me as possible. If he is on the end then I can stay out of everyone else's way."

The other boy shrugged and swapped seats with Kim.

"Thanks."

Bill waited for all the children to get settled before he went into his opening speech.

"Good. Now that we are all settled in, welcome to Defense Against the Dark Arts. In this class, you will learn of the many ways that you can be hurt, and you will also learn how to avoid them. As such, I expect each and every one of you to take this seriously. Any fooling around or misbehaving will result in a liberal loss of house points and detentions."

Bill spoke the last with a harsher voice than he was feeling but it got his point across.

"However, as harsh as I am with punishment, I am generous with reward. This class will be very difficult. Each and every one of you will be challenged. My job is to teach you how to meet those challenges."

Bill then turned to Aaron.

"I'm going to assume that they've been given the obligatory speech about you and Kim already?"

Aaron signed and spoke his sardonic reply, "Five times over."

"Well then I will refrain from boring you all with yet another speech."

There was a collective sigh from all of the students. Bill raised an eyebrow at Aaron. Aaron merely replied "Professor Binns" and left it at that.

"Very well. Let's begin, shall we?"

Bill proceeded to outline what they would be doing for the first term and how he expected their homework to be turned in. Then he immediately jumped into simple curse remedies. He kept his lecture fast paced, moving around the class and observing their note taking. He paused every now and then to make sure they were all keeping up, Kim most specifically. His notes weren't as comprehensive as the boy's next to him, but he had most of the important things.

"Any questions so far?"

Kim was the only one to raise his hand.

"Yes, Kimber, or do you prefer Kim?"

Bill tried his best to ignore Aaron's translation of his speech but it was difficult. Aaron had assured him that he and everyone would eventually get used to it but that it would take a week or two.

"I would prefer Kim, Professor," Aaron's voice relayed what the small boy was signing, "I'm sorry, sir, but I missed one of the ingredients of the warding potion. Would you repeat it, please?"

Kim looked a little nervous, though why, Bill wasn't exactly sure. The professor walked over to where he was sitting and took a closer look at his notes. He was impressed. Though he was right in his assessment that Kim's notes weren't as complete, they were very close. Kim was using some sort of made-up short hand that enabled him to keep up with most of what Bill had been saying. Only certain things like the individual ingredients were written out in full as he had not had the time to invent a shorthand code for them yet.

Bill reviewed the list briefly before answering.

"Red Ocher," he said, Aaron translating it.

"And something you should all note," he continued after Kim had written the name down, "is that although that potion is called the 'Warding Potion', it has several other uses, most notably rune inscription."

Several hands raised. Bill pointed to the nearest one.

"But isn't that what you make the wards with?"

"Yes, but I'm talking about rune stones. When you reach your third year, you will be taking some additional classes, of which Divination and Ancient Runes are choices. Both deal with rune stones. Part of the process in making rune stones is inscribing them. Where as a ward involves several runes in a given order, rune stones only have one rune per stone."

Kim raised his hand.

"Yes, Kim."

"My Muggle cousin showed me these stones once. He had gotten them as a gift from a pen-pal in Norway. They had designs similar to what you have on the board. Are they the same thing?"

"Yes, they are," Bill said, pleased that Kim seemed to be losing his fear, "It's a funny thing, but Muggles were the ones to first start using rune stones, not wizards. Usually, many of the superstitions that pervade the Muggle world were derived from the rituals used by wizards but this one was quite the opposite."

Bill wandered around the classroom while he spoke, "Though wizards had been using runes for centuries before, it was a Muggle or group of Muggles that had the idea to put them to stones. No one knows for sure who it was, exactly. Many point to the old Viking religion as the birth but other societies had been using similar divination and writing tools for just as long."

A first-year girl that Bill would have sworn would fit better with the third years development-wise raised here hand. He pointed her out.

"But what about the Warding Potion?" she asked, "How could Muggles brew that? Wouldn't they need it to make the runes work?"

Bill had already started to explain the answer when Kim's hand shot up like a rocket. It immediately went back down again as he then realized he'd interrupted his teacher. Bill stopped and motioned for him to go ahead.

He stood up again, looking even more timid than before.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you, sir," Aaron translated for the boy, "I just remembered that my cousin's pen-pal mentioned something to him about red ocher being a vital part of the inscription. Would that mean that the other ingredients could be replaced by non-magical ones, ones that Muggles could use?"

Bill grinned happily which helped relieve Kim. His response relieved him even more.

"Five points for good deducing, Mr. Vermont," Bill's smile grew a little wider as Kim reveled in being awarded house points, "However, the answer is no."

Kim's smile disappeared in a fit of confusion.

"Muggles typically do not use anything but red ocher. The other ingredients came as a result of wizards and witches who wanted to bind more magic into their ritualized spells. Red ocher is unique in the fact that it has magical properties that Muggles can somehow access as well as wizards and witches. The other ingredients would do nothing for a Muggle.

"I awarded you those points, Kim, because you are right in a way. The Warding Potion took over a century to develop into it's current form. However, there are many variations that perform just as well, if not better in certain situations. What we use today is more of a generic catch all. It handles the most uses with the best overall results and because of that fact, it is easier for wizards and witches to use, especially for large wards. It's also much cheaper as the ingredients are more common.

"All right," Bill said clapping his hands, "We've learned a little bit about the Warding Potion so for homework I want a minimum 30 centimetre length essay on it. For those of you who tend to write big, either make yours longer or write smaller. For those of you who write small, try to keep it readable without the need for a magnifying glass. Class dismissed."

The students fled the class room with relief as this was their last class for the day. Tom Jarvis, the boy who sat next to Kim, tried to invite Kim to join him and his other new friends outside to play before dinner. Kim shook his head with a little sadness then signed his response.

"Sorry, but I have charms tutoring during free period. And I need it too. I wasn't able to even make the Knut move a centimetre." Aaron translated for him.

"Well you get to gave some free time, don't you?"

"Only after dinner. At least for now."

"Okay," Tom seemed satisfied with that, "Well if I can help with anything, I will."

"Thanks!" Kim said audibly. His pronunciation wasn't that bad, Aaron noticed, and it also got a smile from Tom.

Aaron gave a warm smile and a nod to the Professor who returned both and then he and his charge left to meet with Professor Flitwick for charms tutoring.

* * *

Simon found that the library was rather crowded during the early evening before dinner. He managed to check out the books that he needed but the crowd was just to much. It wasn't loud at all, but there was hardly any room to sit. There was one spot next to Forest but after what happened that morning, Simon wasn't to eager to face him.

The Ravenclaw common room was far to loud, and even though the Ravenclaws were renowned for being bookworms, they were very loud bookworms. So Simon was on a quest to find a nice, relatively empty spot to sit and study. Empty classrooms were no good because they were all locked and Simon didn't feel like going outside. He passed by the doors to the Great Hall and decided to take a look.

It was empty save for the house elves getting ready for the evening meal. Though they were very busy and moving in great haste, they were unbelievably quiet. At least they were until one spotted Simon.

Barley before Simon could blink, the small statured creature was standing before him. It was an odd looking creature with huge glossy eyes and large bat-like ears. What made him stand out among even the other house elves was the fact that he was wearing an outfit of horridly clashing colors whereas all the other elves were wearing tea towels with the Hogwarts crest emblazoned on them.

"Good evening, sir!" said the oddly clothed house elf, "What can we house elves do for you?"

"Umm..." Simon wasn't exactly sure what to say, as the last non-human sentient creature he dealt with was a goblin and that less than pleasant experience was as fresh on his mind as the day it happened.

The house elf certainly picked up on his discomfort.

"Please, sir," he said, "If there is anything we can do, just ask."

"I was..." Simon mentally chastised himself for being intimidated by something that was going out of it's way to be friendly, but he just couldn't help it, "I was just looking for a quiet place to study. The library is full and my common room is definitely out of the question. I wouldn't get in your way if I studied here, would I?"

"Of course not! Please, please come in. Dobby will make room for you. Dobby will make sure master is left undisturbed!"

Simon almost dropped his book bag when the elf grabbed his free hand and yanked him towards the Ravenclaw table. He chittered something in a high pitched voice and several of the other house elves immediately cleared away one of the place settings. By the time Simon had reached that spot, it was devoid of anything remotely connected with dining save for the table itself.

"Umm, thank you," Simon said, still trying to wrap his mind around everything.

"Tis our pleasure, sir." Dobby bowed, "Dinner begins at 6 pm sharp. Please have your area clear at least five minutes before so we can get your setting ready."

Then all the house elves went immediately back to work, amazingly enough, being even quieter than before. Simon was not about to begrudge their courtesy so he immediately set to work on his assignments. He immersed himself so much into his work that he hadn't realized how much time had gone by. It wasn't until the Head Boy cleared his throat that Simon was aware the rest of the school still existed.

He looked up at Alastaire, at first with startled curiosity, but when he realized who it was, his heart fell and his mind raced. He once again wished that he hadn't decided to come to Hogwarts. Alastaire sat down across from him, looking rather pointedly at him. Simon avoided his gaze and tried to go back to his studying.

"We need to talk." Alastaire said quietly. Simon noted that his voice was devoid of any harshness but he did sound serious.

"What's to talk about?" Simon asked, not looking up from his books, "You yourself said that potential is wasted by a lack of prudence."

"That's one of the things we need to talk about," Alastaire said, definitely sounding sad, "I should have worded that better and not made it a threat. It's just that ... It's hard to explain without going into details I'm not allowed to go into. I was angry and I wanted to impress upon you that silence was best."

"It worked," Simon said before he could stop himself. He clamped his mouth shut before he made things worse.

Alastaire sighed. "Look, I'm not asking you to accept my apology but it's there to take. As for what Oslo said, I am asking you, not demanding, and certainly not threatening, but asking that you not go repeating it."

"I already said I wouldn't" Simon said quietly, still not looking up from his book.

"Simon, would you please stop pretending to study and look at me?"

"I'm not pretending."

"I've seen you read. You should have gone through at least four pages by now."

Simon slammed the book shut.

"Look, you said to keep quiet, so I'm going to keep quiet. I've been through this before so there's no need to play at being all civil. Now if you will please excuse me, I'd like to get back to my studying. I didn't come all the way down here just to get an early seat at dinner."

Alastaire blanched at Simon's hostile tone. "Simon, I'm not a bully. There's just more going on than what you know about."

"Look, will you please leave?" Simon half-pleaded, half-growled, "I really don't care what's going on as long as it doesn't involve me."

Alastaire held Simon's gaze for a brief moment before turning away.

"As you wish."

Simon didn't reopen his book until Alastaire had closed the door behind him and even then, he couldn't concentrate. As he cleared and packed away his books, two house elves, one of them being Dobby, came to set the remaining place setting.

"Dinner will be served shortly, sir. Do you not wish to remain? This is one of the most highly sought places to sit among Ravenclaws."

"I'm not hungry."

"But sir," Dobby rushed forward to stop Simon from leaving, "Tis one of the requirements of students to be present at dinner. You will be punished."

"I'm already being punished." Simon said trying to walk around the elf. It was easier said than done as Dobby was quite quick.

"Then you will be punished more!" he whined, "Please, master. Trust Dobby, he knows what he is talking about."

"Look, Dobby, is that your name?"

Dobby nodded.

"Well, Dobby, I'd like to leave. If they want to punish me then they are more than welcome. I doubt anything they come up with would be any worse than what I've dealt with before. Now may I please go?"

Dobby stepped aside shaking his head, "Tis folly, Master Simon, but Dobby will not hinder you anymore."

Simon found his way back to his dorms only to be confronted by the Head Boy once again. This time, he looked very annoyed.

"Dobby tells me you're planning on skiving out of dinner."

"As I told him, I'm not hungry."

"You already skipped lunch, Simon, you must be hungry."

"I was but I seemed to have misplaced my appetite."

"I don't care if you eat or not! Ravenclaw has already lost fifty points because of this incident and I'll be damned if it loses any more."

"Fifty?" Simon was shocked, "You only took twenty."

"Forest heard what happened and picked a fight with Oslo. They both lost fifteen points and each have a detention with Professor Snape. I'm genuinely surprised you hadn't heard about it."

"I was concentrating on my work."

Alastaire laughed. "If that's not a Ravenclaw trait, I don't know what is." his demeanor soured almost instantly, "But don't think for one second that I was joking. Never in the history of Ravenclaw have we lost so many points in one day, and worse yet, it was on the first day of school. Right now, our house is the laughing stock of the entire school.

"I will not have you add insult to injury just because I was a bit of a bully. I said I was sorry and I meant it, but God damn it, Bergstead, if you think I was a bully before it's nothing compared to what I'll do to you if you pull this shit. Go ahead and lose us points tomorrow if you must, but not tonight.

"Am I making myself clear?"

Alastaire leaned in close and subsequently towered over Simon. Simon paled so much that the Head Boy though he was going to faint. Instead, he dropped his book bag and raced into the bathroom. Concerned, Alastaire followed him with caution.

His ears were assaulted with the younger boy being sick in one of the stalls. The older Prefect slowly made his way to the stall and saw that Simon had regurgitated what little he had left from breakfast that morning.

Alastaire cursed his behaviour and temper. Twice he acted like the bully that he claimed he wasn't. What was worse was he could see the pain in Simons face as the boy gave one last dry heave. He collapsed next to the commode trying desperately but unsuccessfully not to cry. It almost made the Head Boy want to vomit.

"As you are feeling ill, I will excuse you from dinner," Alastaire could barely speak, "I would advise you to go see Madame Pinafore but I leave it up to you."

He turned to to leave but stopped just short of the door.

"I know I've ruined any chance there might have been in us becoming friends. There's nothing that I could do and expect anything less. But if there is anything that I can do for you, just ask."

Simon sniffed and wiped away some of the tears.

"I just want to be left alone," he replied, his voice high pitched as if he was still very young.

Alastaire knew that when Simon said alone, he meant more than just the evening, and it was directed at more than just the Head Boy. He nodded sadly.

"As you wish."


	10. Huzzah Tilhører!

Fan fiction: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental.

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned.

Author's Notes: This story is a work in progress. I am finally out of school for the summer so hopefully I will be able to get more chapters out and quicker, but don't hold me to that. As always, please read & review.

Certain characters will be written in with some unique abilities. These powers are derived from White Wolf's World of Darkness, specifically their psychic numina. None of these characters will be wizards so please don't think I'm trying to create super wizards or anything like that.

This chapter is kind of haphazard in that some of the sections are not happening concurrently nor are they linear. It's not because I'm trying to be confusing, I just thought the flow worked better that way as far as telling this part of the story.

TIMELINE NOTE: This story was started long before I knew when the Order of the Phoenix was going to be released. I have read OotP and I will be modifying how the Hogwarts faculty treats the O.W.L.S. to follow that. Plot-wise however, I will be taking a different route.

For those of you who haven't read OotP yet, WHY NOT?

* * *

Darrin Killroy was no fool. He knew quite well that if he had driven to Privet Drive in the middle of the night on his motorcycle, no matter how good the silencing charm, he would be noticed.

So instead, he walked. His clothes were also styled to look rather mundane. A business suit underneath a tan trench coat. He hated tan, but he was supposed to be as inconspicuous as possible for this assignment.

Through Bill, Professor Dumbledore had asked him to investigate the remains of the Dursley household to see if there was anything they could discern from it. The ministry had already done a cursory investigation to see if magic was involved, as is always the case for Wizards who live in the Muggle world, but they found none.

Dumbledore was not convinced. Thus Darrin was out walking several miles to Privet Drive.

It was quite late when he got there, and all the houses on the street were completely dark. Darrin stepped into a dark shadow, emerging with all his clothing changed to his more preferred color of black.

He clung to the shadows with practiced ease as he made his way to the burnt husk that was Number 4, Privet Drive. Darrin knew that there had been wards to monitor magic use, but they would have been removed once it was determined there was no longer a need. Sad as it was to say, Having the house burn down and the Muggles killed. There really wasn't a reason to keep them up.

This made things easier for Darrin as he cast a powerful silencing charm around the lot. As careful as Darrin was, even he couldn't prevent making noise when rummaging through a burnt down house. But he could limit the distance the sound travelled.

Satisfied that nothing short of a nuclear explosion could be heard outside of his charm, he began his search. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, only that he'd know it when he found it. If he found it.

Recalling everything that had been passed along by Bill, the fire was to have started inside the cupboard that they had found Harry in. Darrin marvelled at how the universe had a deep sense of poetic if not ironic justice. Of course, Darrin never said that to Bill.

It had taken Darrin a good hour to convince Bill that he had nothing to do with the fire. Angry though he was at Dursley, one thing Darrin prided himself on was that he was not a cold-blooded murderer. Oh he could kill if he needed to, namely if his life were in immediate danger, and he even admitted that to Bill, but thankfully he never had a need.

But pre-meditated murder was beyond him. And though he privately thought the Dursleys deserved it, he could never be a part of it. At least not intentionally.

Bill eventually believed him.

Darrin put that thought out of his mind as he managed to open what was left of the cupboard. He was no forensics expert but he could see no reason to doubt that the fire started here. The rest of the house, though burnt and ashen, still had an intact shell and he could see a mixture of black ash and that hideous wallpaper. But the closet was, for lack of better words, completely toast.

"Lumos." Darrin said quietly. Silencing charm or not, he would never willingly break his habit of speaking softly when on a 'job'.

The blond man willed the light to barley the amount of a candle flame. He didn't need any more than that and didn't want to bring any visual attention to himself.

The closet was a total loss. Darrin couldn't possibly think of anything that he would find that the ministry might have missed. Though he put little stock in the intelligence of the bureaucrats, the Aurors were another matter entirely. On average, they didn't miss much.

But then again, They weren't allowed to cast dark spells.

Darrin pulled out a small diary and rifled through it. It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for.

"Chronos Inverté." He whispered the incantation of time reversal.

The spell was a tricky one and was highly illegal. Time turners were far more powerful and useful, but the only wizards known to be able to make them worked for the ministry and thusly were easily regulated. This spell, however could be cast by anyone who knew it. Thus it was outlawed several centuries earlier.

The air around the cupboard rippled as time itself inverted. It didn't take long before most of the cupboard was whole again. Darrin brushed away the dead spiders that had 'unburned'. Though they were whole again, the spell could not return life to them. Another reason why time turners were more useful.

When he cleared away some of the dirt, he noticed something not normally found inside a cupboard. It was an odd looking thing, like a compass, but with a diamond inside the center. The back had grooves as if it fit into a lock like a key would.

Darrin picked it up and the diamond turned from crystal clear to translucent blood red. Smoke emerged from his fingers and it didn't take long for Darrin to realize his glove was now on fire.

"Shit!" he dropped the artifact and stamped his hand down on the floor several times. The small fire went out quickly but he removed the glove just in case it was still smoldering. Luckily, he hadn't been burned.

The artifact's crystal went back to clear. Darrin now knew exactly what caused the fire, if not why.

"Now how to get you home?" he asked no one in particular. He pondered this quandary for a few minutes.

"I've got it. Cryo-immobilous."

The little known mixture of freezing and restraint charm seemed to do the trick. He picked up the artifact and though the crystal turned red again, the charm held.

"Finité Incantatum," Darrin banished the time inversion spell. The cupboard instantly returned to it's burnt and devastated state.

Darrin knew there was nothing else he would find of use at the house, so he made haste in leaving the area, pausing only long enough to banish the silencing spell.

Back through the dark shadow, he was once again a Muggle business man walking home.

* * *

Eric had been watching the house for sometime now. He had tracked his enemy to Surrey, but had managed to lose him in the mundane and repetitive streets of the rural neighborhood. It was with both joy and anguish that he read about his enemy's death in the newspaper. Joy in that his enemy was now dead, saving him the trouble. Anguish in that they key was now in the hands of someone else.

Eric managed to trace it back to Privet Drive, where his enemy was found dead in the front garden of a rather mundane family. Using his innate ability to remain hidden, even in plain sight, Eric watched the house. The key had to be somewhere inside the house. His enemy, though cursed in Eric's mind, was not stupid, much less sloppy.

Though Eric had managed to wound him critically, he would not have given up on his self-righteous quest. The key had some odd powers, this Eric knew. Powers unlike anything Eric had dealt with before, for it kept his enemy alive far longer than nature would've allowed. His enemy knew this, too, and would not have let it out of his possession unless he was certain of it's safety.

His enemy was now dead, ergo the key was no longer in his possession, and was given willingly to one of the residents of the house.

Eric just didn't know who. He watched the house as often as his ability would allow, retreating back to his motel room only when he was near exhaustion and could no longer maintain the concentration necessary to remain invisible. He watched three people coming and going, occasionally following them when he could. Nothing in what he observed indicated that they had possession of the key.

But Eric was a very patient man. He was eager to acquire the key, but he had time on his side. His enemy's friends would inquire about his death, but they would learn little. They would not know about the key finally surfacing after almost a millennium. At least not for sometime, if Eric was patient and didn't do anything to draw attention.

So he watched, patiently and methodically; occasionally changing the times he observed the family. Eventually, that patience paid off. There was a fourth living in the house. That would explain the slight aura variation of the house.

The father apparently did not like this boy as he was locked inside a cupboard for at least the two weeks that Eric had been watching them. It didn't take Eric long to figure out the boy was the one to be in possession of the key. His aura was quite unique. It was fading, but it was still ever present and more importantly, it matched the aura the key had.

Eric decided to wait before attempting to reacquire the key, as he wanted to be certain the boy had it. It would be quite a predicament if he played his hand and came up empty. Final proof that the boy, in fact, had the key came within the week.

The boy had apparently made a plea to be released from his prison. The fat man would have nothing of it, though. That's when Eric saw it. The boy revealed the key! The man grabbed it and then Eric was legitimately shocked to see what had happened next. The aura of the key, normally a soft but present white, turned a vivid and angry red. It seemed to seep into the fat man, as if taking him over.

The man howled with pain and threw the key down. The red aura in the man almost immediately dissipated, lingering only in the man's hand where he was quite obviously burned.

That was when things started getting strange. Strange for Eric that is. The man started yelling, his face redder than the key's still angry aura. Then he slapped the boy very hard. The boy, weakened from a severe lack of food fell instantly. In that instant, a shadow flickered in Eric's peripheral vision. He barely had time to duck as a white bird flew through where his head used to be.

A loud crack was heard and Eric noticed that the front window was the source. He didn't know the cause but it looked like another hit would break it. And that's exactly what it got as the white bird, an owl he finally noticed, had found another rock and made another run. The window shattered and Eric had to cover his head or risk getting a nasty cut.

The boy yelled out to the owl, ordering it to go to someone named Ron. The owl seemed to have understood this order because it flew off to the northeast. The fat man then really laid into the boy, starting with several kicks and finally lashing him with his belt.

Eric cared not for the boy or his welfare, but if the man were allowed to continue his beatings, the boy would die and that would complicate matters entirely.

He concentrated hard. He had tested the mental defenses of the whole family save for the black-haired boy and though the father wasn't the most intelligent person he was very strong willed. This would not be easy, but it had to be done.

'_STOP!_' Eric thought hard. It worked. The man named Dursley stopped in mid-swing. This was apparently enough for the man's logical side of his brain to regain control. The man dropped the belt next to the boy.

Eric could sense that this man named Dursley was not sorry in the least for his actions, but he was smart enough to realize that he would be in a world of trouble if this ever came to light. With a pragmaticism that Eric couldn't help but admire, Dursley stuffed the broken boy back into the cupboard and locked it.

"This never happened. In two days, I'll be able to take the boy out into the countryside and dump him. We can say he ran away and then we'll be blame free."

In Eric's senses, the woman named Petunia, though disturbed by her husband's display, did not seem even remotely upset at his plan. Neither did the whale of a boy they called their son.

This meant that Eric no longer had the luxury of time. He had to assume that the key would be taken with the boy, so that meant that he needed to follow Vernon Dursley. A difficult proposition at best as his ability to remain invisible did not extend to anything that wasn't on his person. Eric went back to his motel room to ponder this new conundrum.

The next day, refreshed and recuperated from the previous evening's goings on, Eric returned to Number 4, Privet Drive, only to find that the boy was already gone. He didn't know exactly what happened but the images he plucked from the family's mind is that two men had come and taken him away. Men who were NOT constabulary as they had not been arrested... yet.

This did not bode well for Eric as it would make getting the key even harder, but one thing Eric was pleased about. The key had not left the house. It's aura was still resonating. More so now that the boy was no longer in the house. Eric had a sense of dread at what may yet come. Whatever it was, it would undoubtedly complicate matters.

That was little over a week ago. His feelings of dread were on spot as the house had burnt down that very evening. Eric knew that the key was the cause, but he didn't know exactly why. Did the key have some sort of sentience? It was possible, especially for an artifact of such age, that it had collected enough psychic resonance that it had achieved a personality of sorts.

But that would mean that it might be able to sense Eric's presence, possibly even his intentions. He did not know what effect that would have on his plans, but he could not abandon them altogether now. Too many things were in motion and failure would mean death, possibly worse.

But it did seem that he once again had the luxury of time. Until the man in shadows arrived.

Eric had waited until the police and fire departments did their investigations. Then he waited for the insurance adjusters to finish their investigations. Though he suspected they were more than they claimed to be as their auras were ever present.

Then, as chance would have it, on the night he was to attempt recovery of the key, a man in shadows appeared. At first Eric dismissed him as a simple mundane walking home from work. But then he stepped into the shadows and came out different. His clothes had changed from light gray and tan to all black. He clung to the shadows like a spider to the wall.

Clearly, this man was used to being surreptitious, but what truly intrigued him was his aura. It was similar to the ones claiming to be insurance adjusters. It was also similar to the black-haired boy's.

Then, for the first time in many years, Eric witnessed an event that truly frightened him. The man had used his aura to effect his surroundings. Nothing like what he himself could do with his psychic abilities. This man actually altered the reality of the area around the house.

Though Eric's abilities were not insignificant and they too, resisted the laws of reality, they were nothing like what this man was doing.

Eric had no choice but to wait. This man had powers that were beyond his comprehension and he had no desire to test out the other man's strength or competency in those powers.

After fifteen minutes, the man exited the house. He removed whatever effect he had placed over the house, then he stepped into the shadows once again, and once again he was just another mundane. At least outwardly. Now that Eric knew what to look for, he could sense that the man's powers were in use, causing that effect, similar to his invisibility power.

And there was something else. He had the key with him.

* * *

James Vermont walked up and down the lines of his students, measuring each one's stance. He corrected and encouraged when necessary and praised when correcting wasn't necessary. All in all, this new batch of adult students didn't seem to be half bad. Granted, it was still the first week, but he had high hopes.

"Very good, class. This is the back stance. It will be the stance you use most throughout the beginning of your training. As you progress, you will find that some stances work better than others in certain sit.."

His voice broke as a tingling sensation crawled across his skin. It lasted barely a second but James knew what it meant. However, he could hardly just break away from his class without arousing significant suspicion.

"Situations," he finished, "Sorry, felt like someone stepped over my grave for a moment."

James continued with his class for the next hour as if nothing had happened, but when it came time for his next class, he had the lead student start them on warm up exorcises while he went to the office. There he made the call.

"Hello," the answer was soft and almost indistinct.

"This is Verdigris," James said just as softly.

"Prometheus is dead."

"How?" James had to sit down. Prometheus was the code name for one of his closest friends in their order.

"I can not say this now. A meeting has been called with the usual details. Can you make it?" the voice asked.

"Verdigris will be represented."

"Acceptable."

The click over the line told James that the other person had hung up. He leaned back in his chair, phone receiver still in his lap, trying to recover from the shock. After a minute, he called his wife.

"Athena, I've just gotten some bad news."

* * *

Eric cautiously followed the strange man. He made sure to step only when the other man stepped. It was extremely difficult as he dared not read the other man's thoughts or emotions for fear of being discovered. As it was, he didn't know if the other man had sensed his presence already or not, but he had no indication of that happening. Yet.

Then it happened. He noticed the cat streaking across his path too late to prevent kicking it. It shrieked and hissed at its attacker but then at no sign of him, ran off.

The man he was following had turned with astonishing speed and he had a stick of wood in his right hand. He did not appear to see Eric, but that did not prevent Eric from holding his breath in agitation. If the man discovered him, there would definitely be a fight and he knew that they would both end up using their powers, whatever they may be.

The man looked around for a moment and his eyes met Eric's. Eric forced himself to remain calm.

'The man did NOT see me. He is just looking.' he repeated in his mind, more to calm himself than anything.

After what seemed like minutes but couldn't have been more than a few seconds, the other man lowered his stick and walked off again. He did not give Eric the impression that he had seen him, but Eric didn't want to take that chance. This man was obviously used to dealing in the shadows and was more than likely assuming that he was being followed.

Eric waited until the other man was about 10 meters away before he started up again, this time he extended his senses out just enough to prevent another accident.

They walked, seemingly endlessly for a time. Eric couldn't tell if he was sensing impending danger or if it was just paranoia, but he saw that the man's path would take them into the large and dark shadow of a tree. Eric mentally prepared himself to throw up a shield incase the man had a gun.

Whether it was paranoia or intuition, it proved correct. As the man stepped into the shadows, Eric heard a crack and saw the man disappear. He turned around to survey his surroundings. He knew of other psychics, including himself, who could transport themselves short distances and it was a known tactic among them to suddenly appear behind an enemy.

Still maintaining his invisibility, Eric threw up a shield just in case. This did not bode well.

* * *

Darrin made as much haste as he could without making him look too much out of place. He seriously wished he could have Apparated in and out but Apparating made too much noise. He mentally noted that is was definitely past time to find an invisibility charm or cloak.

He retraced the route he took into the large neighborhood, wanting very much to get home and have another slice of Molly Weasley's delicious mince pie (Darrin had mastered the preserving charm long ago for that very reason). But the shriek and hiss from behind him changed his thoughts really quick.

In a flash he had his wand in his hand and was looking around for what was following him. The cat that had shrieked had the same idea, but upon not finding anything it ran off. Darrin took a little more time to investigate the disturbance. This couldn't have been a coincident.

After a few seconds, Darrin was satisfied that either there was no one there at all, or that it was invisible. He didn't cast his all-seeing charm for that would make things a little to obvious, so he decided to wait until he could disappear himself.

He started walking again, going the same route he did before in case he was followed on the way in. After a few minutes, he saw his opportunity. A large tree was casting a massive shadow across his path. He could Apparate under the cover of darkness back one block and then cast his all-seeing charm. Then he would know for sure if someone was following him.

As the shadow consumed him, he Apparated. He landed exactly where he wanted and then pointed his wand at his eyes.

"Ocular Revelo" he whispered. The normal world rippled for a little bit and then he saw him. There was an invisible man there, but he wasn't wearing an invisibility cloak. He technically wasn't invisible at all, at least not by normal magical means.

The man had his hand out in front of him as if shielding himself, though what he could manage to block with only his hand, Darrin couldn't guess. In either case, then man's 'invisibility' did not dissipate. It fluctuated around him like nothing Darrin had ever seen.

Then their eyes met.

In an instant the man had disappeared and before Darrin could even react, he felt a sharp blow to his back. His eyes blurred and he saw stars of intense pain as he was flung forward. In an long forgotten self-defense move he rolled the moment he landed and subsequently was missed by the heavy boot coming towards his head. He shot his wand forward.

"Vermillious!" he cried and an angry red bolt shot forth from his wand. The man barely had time enough to put his hand in front of him. The spell, rather than impacting on him directly, dissipated over an invisible bubble, but it did have enough impact to throw the man backwards. He landed with an audible thud into the grass lawn.

Darrin started to get up, his next spell on his lips when he found his wand was flung from his hand. In the moment that happened, he saw his enemy's invisibility waver just a bit. Without even thinking he drew his pistol and shot three times.

Darrin Killroy was no marksman, but he was skilled enough to hit a man from four meters away. But only one of his bullets found their mark and even then it seemed to have bee redirected. It hit the man in his left shoulder. In that instant, Darrin could see that the man's invisibility completely faltered.

He wasted no time in reaching for his wand.

"Accio wand!" he yelled. The moment it landed in his hands, he Apparated away, knowing that if their scuffle did not wake the residents, then his gunshots did. He did not need to be questioned by the police about why he was carrying an illegal pistol.

He arrived in a dark alley near where he left his motorcycle. Checking around him to make sure that no one saw him Disapparate, he exited as quickly but carefully as possible. His motorcycle was still there but there was a parking ticket left on the petrol tank.

Laughing at the absurdity of the whole situation, Darrin pocketed the ticket, started his engine and headed home. Bill wasn't going to believe this.

* * *

Eric was fuming. Not only did he lose the key, he was now bleeding rather profusely from the bullet wound.

This new enemy was a worthy opponent indeed. Intelligent and adaptable and doesn't take chances. Eric was surprised that his shield had any effect on the man's... beam? He didn't know what that was but it was mostly stopped by Eric's psychic powers.

The bullets were another matter. Eric was good, but any projectile coming at a person at that velocity is going to be difficult to stop or redirect. As it was, he managed three, only the last was just enough to not get hit in the heart.

But the worthiness of his opponent didn't stop him from wanting to impale the man 's head on a pike. For this man had done far worse than just wound him. He left him to deal with the authorities that were sure to be called. It was attention that Eric was trying most to avoid. It was attention that would surely get back to his enemies, the Knights of Merlin's Keep.

* * *

Athena Vermont surveyed the small crowd around her. All of them wore the customary leather tunic that bore their crest. However, some of them, like her, wore a sash with another's crest. This meant that they spoke for that person who was missing. In this case, she spoke for her husband, and thusly, her household.

A man walked forward clearing his throat for attention. He was not very tall compared to most men, but he had a sternness about him that left little room for nonsense. His hard face was decorated with an even harder scowl.

"We are gathered once again," his deep bass voice echoed throughout the small hall, "I only wish it were for better circumstances. As most of you know, Prometheus is dead."

Quiet murmurs broke throughout the crowd. The speaker raised his hands to quiet them.

"Alas, I'm afraid it's true. He died just over a week ago; we discovered this only two days ago. One of our brethren in Surrey reported it to us as soon as the police had identified his body."

"But he was in America!" one person shouted, "If he returned, why did he not contact us?"

"He made contact with Swift Wind shortly before he left," the speaker replied, "He thought he had a lead on the Key."

Several of the crowd gasped while even more murmurs broke out.

"Calm yourselves, please. We have no proof of this, only what he reported. We do know, however, that he was murdered. And it was not by any mundane means."

"And do we know who committed this murder, Hyperion?" Athena asked, "Do we know why?"

"Unfortunately, we do not. Only that his body was found on the front lawn of a house in Surrey."

Athena's stomach tightened. She recalled that the Harry Potter boy, the one they thought wore the crown of lightning, lived in Surrey with his aunt and uncle, and that they had died in a house fire.

"What was the address?" she asked, almost out of breath.

"What?"

"What was the address? Where he was found. It is important!"

"I'm not aware. Why?" Hyperion gave her an inquisitive look. "Why is it important, Seraph?"

"B-because..." Athena could not finish her statement. A boy barely sixteen burst into the room still trying to don his tunic.

"By God Romulus, what is your problem? We are in an important meeting here!" Hyperion yelled at the boy.

"Forgive me, Hyperion," he said, finally fitting his arms through his tunic. Several laughs fluttered throughout the room as the boy had put his tunic on backwards. The boy either didn't notice or didn't care as he continued, "But I have just received word from Orion in Surrey. He said that this message was priority."

Hyperion scowled at the boy who was at least six centimeters taller than him, and the boy cowered.

"Well get on with it boy." the older man growled.

"Oh," the boy hurriedly put on a sash that bore Orion's crest, much to the ire of Hyperion.

"Boy, you do not speak for Orion! Remove that sash at once!"

"Be still, Hyperion," a voice from the back of the room spoke, "The boy speaks for Orion. I am witness."

Hyperion's scowl turned into a glare that could almost kill, but he waved the boy on without saying a word.

"Orion sends word of an incident. A man was shot last night, not far from where Prometheus was found. This man is known to us. It is Lear."

The crowd all started speaking at once. Hyperion waved for silence and when he didn't get it, he used stronger methods.

'_SILENCE!_' reverberated throughout everyone's mind.

"Damn you, Hyperion!" the voice from the back spoke once again, "That was unnecessary."

"I am Judicator at this meeting. I will decide what is necessary. And the first thing is for everyone NOT to panic. Boy, is Orion sure of this? Has he gotten proof?"

The boy nodded, "Orion swears by his blood that it is Lear. They were friends as youth. He recognized the man's face and one of his many false names."

"Was he seen?" said the voice in back.

"No, Lord Morgan. Orion believed Lear was unconscious at the time."

"Lear is as dangerous and cautious as Orion, if not more so. It may be a trap." Hyperion added.

"Orion agrees with you, but he does not think so for one reason. The man who allegedly shot him, Orion believes he is a wizard.

Hyperion laughed along with some of the crowd.

"Orion has been sipping his brandy a little too often, I think." Hyperion ignored Romulus bristling at the insult, "There are no more wizards. _WE_ are the last defenders of Merlin's Keep."

"Yet Lear was defeated. That distinction so far has gone to only two people that I'm aware of. Orion and Verdigris. Even then, Lear managed to escape relatively unharmed. Yet now he has been shot? I can't believe that it was just luck."

"Lord Morgan, would you have us believe that Wizards still walk among us? If they do, why haven't they contacted us?" Hyperion asked haughtily, eager to make the other man look foolish.

"Perhaps for the same reason we have not contacted them." Lord Morgan smiled, "That simply being, they do not believe we exist."

Hyperion snorted.

"Pardon me, sirs, but Orion has spoken with several of the witnesses. Though no one saw a second man, one of them heard a man screaming strange words. The others do not report such an occurrence, but Orion seems to think that their memory has been modified. They all have the tell tale signs."

"Orion didn't happen to get those words out of the witness, did he?"

"Yes, sir. 'Accio wand'."

Hyperion's smug look vanished. Lord Morgan stopped smiling, but his demeanor was still light. The rest of the crowd was still muttering their shock. All but Athena.

"Seraph," Lord Morgan finally asked, getting everyone's attention back onto matters at hand, "I believe you were going to tell us the significance of the address where Prometheus was found."

"Y-yes," Athena nodded, "But I must know what the address is first if I am to be sure it has any significance at all."

"Milady, it was at Number 4 Privet Drive. Orion reports that it has burnt to the ground. No survivors."

Athena paled greatly and she had to sit down.

"I think it's safe to say that there _IS_ some significance to this address. Am I also right in guessing that this may have something to do with your son?" Lord Morgan asked.

Athena nodded nervously.

"What could this possibly have to do with her son? He's not even an inducted member."

"That's not entirely accurate, Hyperion. Last week, Verdigris and Seraph, with my blessing and Romulus' witness, inducted their son. He has yet to be given a name but he is a member, with full rights."

"But he's to young," one woman in the crowd stated, "We haven't inducted anyone his age since the time of Merlin himself."

The general consensus of the crowd agreed with her statement. Hyperion's opinion was obvious well before he spoke it.

"You should have come to council with this!" he hissed.

Lord Morgan's eyes narrowed dangerously at Hyperion.

"You forget yourself, _Sir_ Hyperion," his voice was low and cold, "By the council's leave, I am _Lord_ Morgan La Fay of London. That put's Verdigris and Seraph's son in my domain. It is my decision and mine alone if and when he is to be inducted, not the council's. And I might add that you speak for the Matron only in a vote, not in a general meeting!"

Hyperion bowed his head in deference, but everyone knew that his coming apology was only out of protocol and not because he was genuinely sorry.

"I beg your forgiveness, Lord Morgan La Fay of London," he spoke without malice or sarcasm, "By your leave."

"We should hear what Seraph has to say, if the Judicator would allow." Lord Morgan replied as if the incident never occurred.

"Agreed. Seraph, your words, please."

Seraph stood and Lord Morgan placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Some time ago, we received a caller. This man, with the government, had news of a special school designed for my son's needs. Most of you have met my son and know what I'm talking about. Or at least you would assume so. At the time, I did too, but all too soon I found out that I was incredibly wrong.

"This man was a wizard," Athena ignored the mutterings and murmurs her statement generated, "And he works for the British Wizarding government, what they call the Ministry of Magic. He came with a formal letter of acceptance to a wizard's school for my son."

"Are you telling us your son is a wizard, Seraph?" Hyperion said in disbelief.

"Hyperion," Lord Morgan warned, "You have met the young one. You have seen, nay you have _felt_ his potential. Listen."

Hyperion scowled but said nothing more.

"We believed this man immediately, for he had performed magic right before our eyes. He had shattered one of my fine glass coasters, but then he repaired it with a wave of his wand and a word. It was like it had never been broken. Not even a slight discoloration or warping.

"It was then when he explained who he was and why he was there. Last week, we went to their main commerce center. It was a place so astounding, I can't even begin to describe it. Alas, by their laws, even if I could find the right words I would be disallowed to speak of it. I do so now only because of the severity of the situation.

"In that place, at a quaint pub, we met a boy. He lived at Number 4 Privet Drive. He had found out about his aunt, uncle & cousin dying in that fire that day. This boy is the one whom all of us have been waiting for. We met the boy who wears the crown of lightning."

The entire hall erupted again in a furor. This time Hyperion joined it rather than stopped it. It was Lord Morgan who finally silenced them.

"ENOUGH!"

The voices subsided.

"I have screened all three of the House of Verdigris. All three of them speak true as they know the legends. They do not show signs of adlement or tamper. As Romulus is my apprentice, he witnessed this.

"If this is truly the boy of our legends, then we will need someone to watch him. Wizards _do_ exist, and this Harry Potter is apparently one of their most powerful. It is for that reason they contacted me and it was my opinion to bring the young one into our fold. Verdigris and Seraph both agreed as did their son. Had there been any other alternative I would most likely have taken it.

"What we need to decide now is how these events all affect each other. It is no coincidence that Lear has showed his vile head once again. I think it's clear that he is Prometheus' murderer. I also believe that Prometheus knew where the Key was if he had not already found it."

"But we have no evidence, Lord Morgan," said one of the men, "I mean no disrespect but all we have is your supposition, based on the report of a known drunkard."

"Better a drunkard than a patron of harlots!" Romulus snapped at the man.

Both Hyperion and Lord Morgan stepped in between the two who were now very ready to fight each other.

"If you two can not behave yourselves you will be exiled to the Silence Chamber," Hyperion snapped.

The two would-be combatants eventually backed down from each other. Lord Morgan continued.

"You are correct, Pythos, all we have is supposition, but drunk or sober, Orion's mind is as sharp as the Matron's. I for one believe his words, and I also believe that my suppositions are correct.

"I doubt Prometheus would have returned so abruptly unless he came upon an astounding lead. Lear is not creative enough to find the Key on his own. He would have waited until Prometheus had it before he struck. In any event, we can be almost certain that Lear does not yet have the Key."

"If Prometheus found the Key, and Lear killed him, what makes you think he doesn't have it?" Hyperion asked haughtily.

"Why would Lear stick around a small town like Little Whinning if he had the Key? He would have already found and opened the Keep by now if he did. I suspect that our mystery wizard managed to recover the Key before him, thus the fight."

"You are correct, Lord Morgan." A new voice was heard in the hall. All present immediately turned to the source and kneeled low.

"Matron," Hyperion welcomed, "You honor us with your presence."

"Oh do get up, all of you! I may be an old woman but I am no queen. Always bowing and kneeling. A pathetic tradition, I always thought. I would do away with it if I could."

The Matron hobbled into the center of the meeting using her gnarled cane for balance. Her long white hair was braided and tied, revealing her wrinkled and near skeletal face. She wore a frown on her face, showing her displeasure.

When she finally got to the center of the hall, Athena offered her the chair she had been sitting on. The Matron smiled warmly. An odd sight considering her near death-like appearance.

"That's okay, dear. I prefer to stand today. Too much sitting and I get stiff."

Her smile left her immediately as she turned to Lord Morgan.

"Causing a ruckus as usual, Lord Morgan?"

"As only I can, Matron," he bowed with a smile.

"Poppycock!" she snapped, but it seemed to lack any real bite, "You know what must be done, so get to it."

Lord Morgan nodded, "By your command."

The Matron did not wait for Lord Morgan to leave before she turned to Hyperion.

"By your leave, Judicator, I would speak without interruption."

Hyperion bowed and removed the sash that bore the Matron's crest.

"Lord Morgan is correct. The Key is in the possession of this wizard. However that may not stay the case. I and the other seers have come to a nexus. Too many paths have presented themselves for us to comfortably predict, so we must assume that Lear may yet get ahold of the Key.

"I encouraged him to allow the youngest of Verdigris into our fold. He is right in that we need someone to watch this boy who may wear the crown of lightning."

The Matron turned to Athena with a forlorn look on her face.

"I know how you feel, dear, and I am truly sorry that we must use your son in such a manner, but we have little choice. Rest assured that in his heart he does want this."

Athena nodded and released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"And he needs a name. I know it is tradition for one to be present at one's own naming, but desperate times call for desperate measures. From this time forth, we refer to the son of Verdigris and Seraph as Tilhører, the listener."

"Huzzah Tilhører!" they all chanted.

The Matron handed Hyperion a rolled up parchment.

"Instructions for the clan. The Key has been found, so now the Keep is all that remains. I want all available clan members searching including our brethren off continent. This is far too important for us to handle by ourselves."

"By your command." Hyperion bowed, then dismissed the meeting.

Athena made to leave with the rest of the group but the Matron gently took her arm. Soon the hall was empty except for the two women.

"Athena, I can see you have not told us everything you know about the wizards," she held up her hand to stop Athena's excuse, "And I know why. I was fortunate in my youth to meet a wizard."

She chuckled in a melancholy way, "Or unfortunate as the case may have been. As you know, I was part of an underground railroad for Jews back in World War Two. Well, on one of those trips, we came across an old German bloke. Thought he was on the run as well, he looked so frail. Little did we know who or what he was.

"Tell me, have you ever heard of the name Grindelwald?"

Athena shook her head.

"I'm not surprised. Not much is known about him. Well anyway, this Grindelwald, believe it or not, was the driving force behind the Third Reich. Oh, Hitler and the other boys certainly pushed it along nicely but it was Grindelwald who really gave them their start. Well this old German man just happened to be Grindelwald, a very powerful dark wizard.

"I'm surprised at how fate works. Here we were, a small and insignificant underground railroad and we were caught by our enemy's leader of all people. But of course, none of us knew this until after the slaughter was over.

"Grindelwald killed my husband first thing. It was a frightening thing, to see that green light from his wand and my husband just fall, a look of shock on his face. No pain, no scream, just shock. The next thing I know, the rest of us were caught in the crossfire of two very powerful wizards.

"A man, not much older than me in appearance fought Grindelwald. Oh a mighty duel it was. Curses and jinxes flying left and right. The speed at which they fought was unbelievable. The things they conjured to harm their opponent and defend themselves. I thought I had died and gone to Hell.

"When it was over, Grindelwald was dead. Alas, so were two more of our party. The man who fought him looked forlorn at the senseless loss of life, but we knew what we were getting into when we started that journey. We knew that it was nothing more than a simple matter of our life or our death.

"He then aimed his wand at us. For a moment, I thought we were all dead. I long knew about my abilities so I attempted to defend the rest so they could try and run. I was never very strong in the kinetic art, but I was sure mad as hell and that gave me enough fuel to grab his wand.

"And do you know what that old codger did? He laughed! Oh not the cruel laugh of a maniac, but the joyful laugh of an old friend. With his wand still in my hand, he laughed. Naturally I wasn't exactly thrilled with everything that had gone on, especially losing my husband.

"But before I could do anything else to him, he surrendered. 'You win, milady!' he cried, still smiling that damnable smile. 'I could not possibly do you harm, for you and I are kin. Crusaders for the same cause.' Well I thought he was talking about the war effort, but then he really shocked me. 'The _Key_ to victory is found in friendship, not conflict. May we find it and _Keep_ it in peace.'

"He knew what I was. I couldn't possibly harm him then. It was foolish, I know, but I just couldn't. I tossed him back his wand. And then he explained everything to me. All about his kind and who Grindelwald really was. Alas, he was forced to alter my compatriots memories. But he trusted me with his secret, saying that he would keep mine.

"His name was Albus Dumbledore."

"But that's the headmas..." Athena broke out before she could stop herself, "Headmaster of Kim's school."

The Matron smiled.

"Oh got promoted, did he. He was only a professor when I spoke to him. But be that as it may, I wanted you to know that you and your family need not be so cautious around me personally. Kim now has a dual allegiance. He _is_ a wizard and therefore subject to their laws, as are you as his parents.

"You will need to contact him, and warn him of Lear. Tell him that if he needs to, he can speak to the Headmaster of our doings. Dumbledore is a friend to the Knights. I am not certain at what he will do or allow, but he will help. But Kim is to only go to him if there is danger. If a minor issue comes up, I am certain that he will be able to handle it himself.

"I have Seen his translator. He is a good man. He will protect Kim when the time comes."

"When?" Athena paled in horror.

"Yes, dear, when. I was not lying when I said things were difficult to discern, but one thing is clear: Tilhører will face Lear, and he will face Lord Voldemort."

The Matron put her hand on Athena's once again, to lend her strength for the oncoming hardships.

* * *

Bill sat down for breakfast next to Aaron. The other man looked like he'd gone several rounds with a Norwegian Ridgeback the way his bloodshot eyes and horrendously tousled hair just glared out at him. Bill had a hard time not chuckling at the poor man.

Aaron glared at him but with not much effort behind it.

"How you people can stand to sleep on those mattresses I'll never know," he muttered.

"Try Egyptian bedrock," Bill replied.

"At least that stays in one spot," Aaron complained.

"Oh you'll get used to it."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Aaron muttered almost inaudibly.

"Do we really put you off that much?" Bill asked.

Aaron was about to respond when the morning mail arrived. The owls flew in and all around dropping letters and packages here and there. One large snowy landed neatly in front of Bill and with a regalness that Aaron had never seen before, put it's leg forth for Bill to retrieve the letter attached to it.

Bill read the note from Darrin, careful not to let Aaron accidentally see it. It read:

Three Broomsticks  
6:00 PM  
-Demetrius

Bill knew that 'Demetrius' was one of Darrin's many false identities and he would be in disguise. He questioned his reasoning behind going to the Three Broomsticks at that time of the evening, though. It would be quite crowded. But Bill knew better than to question Darrin's judgement. He was more knowledgeable about playing the cloak and dagger games.

"Um, Bill, your owl is eating my toast."

"He must be hungry," Bill said plainly.

"But he's eating _MY_ toast," Aaron reiterated

"Well then nip him some eggs. It'll give him some protein," Bill said amusedly.

Aaron curled his lips, "As you wish."

He then took his fork and with one swipe, picked up the remaining scrambled eggs on Bill's plate and dropped it on his. The eggs splattered a bit hitting the Snowy owl in its chest. The owl mildly screeched it's discontent at both Bill and Aaron.

Aaron glared at the owl, his bloodshot eyes and wild hair giving him a psychotic look.

"Don't complain, you actually got to eat your breakfast."

With that, Aaron took a healthy bite of eggs.

Bill sighed.

"You know, for a wizard who doesn't like the Wizarding world, you certainly fit in quite well," he said as he rose to start his day, "See you at lunch then. Oh and play nicely with Haley. He's a biter."

At that, the Snowy owl tried to nip Aaron's fingers but just barely missed. Aaron couldn't decide who to scowl at more, Bill or the owl. He opted for the owl.

"Hey, nip eggs, not fingers," he admonished the white bird.

Haley apparently was not in a mood to challenge Aaron so he took a few more eggs as Aaron watched Bill leave the Great Hall.

* * *

Bill sat in the crowded pub, waiting for Darrin's arrival. Dumbledore allowed Bill to meet with him at this time which was unusual as dinner was one meal where everyone, professors included, were expected to attend. But Darrin was sure to have a good reason, or so Bill hoped.

A dark-haired man with a squared jaw sat at Bill's small booth.

"Ah, Bill Weasley, I see ye got me note."

Bill almost instantly recognized Darrin.

"Yes, Demetrius, I haven't heard from you in a long time. How are things with you?"

"Strange as ever, but nothin I couldn't handle. Had a wee bout the other day but I came through just fine. I heard ye was workin up at the Hogwarts and since I was in the neighborhood I thought I'd drop ye a visit.

"I brought ye some gifts," he said pulling out a bag and handing it to Bill, "Just some bobbles and trinkets from me adventures. I even threw in a bottle of me home brew for you and the missus, put some hair on yer chest."

Bill glowered at Darrin/Demetrius, "I'm not married, Demetrius, and if I were I doubt my wife would want hair on her chest."

"Ye never know, she might." Demetrius laughed heartily earning and even sour look from Bill.

"It's a pity I didn't get you anything, Demetrius, but I'm sure I could always see what my brother or father can dig up from the Ministry."

Darrin's smile faltered for just a second, then he burst out laughing even harder.

"Oh, don't worry about ol Demetrius, I can take care of me self. But I thanks ye for the thought, mate."

"Anytime, Demetrius. Care for some food while your here?"

"Oh no, I gots to be goin. Just passin through. I might drop by again later. I'll send ye a note if I do."

"I can't wait," Bill said dryly as he stood to see 'Demetrius' leave.

Bill waited for about five minutes before he himself went back up to the castle. When he got there, he went straight to the Headmaster's office as Dumbledore had directed. As soon as the evening meal was over, Albus would meet with him to discuss Darrin's report.

Bill opened the bag of 'gifts' and was surprised to see that Darrin did in fact leave him a bottle of his homemade honey mead. Bill knew it wouldn't put hair on his chest but it would certainly knock him out if he wasn't careful.

The other two gifts were obviously part of his report. One was a rare item Bill recognized as a Thought Orb. This small device worked similar to a pensieve in that one could place a single memory inside, but rather than placing the memory itself, it was just a copy.

The other item was an odd sight. Darrin had placed a combination freezing & restraining charm on it, but for what reason, Bill could not figure out. The object inside looked like a compass with a diamond in the center. On the back side, he could see grooves that looked like it would fit snugly into something.

"And what does Mr. Killroy have to say?" Albus gave Bill a mild start.

"Oh, well let me try and translate. It's been a while. Let's see, he said things were 'strange as ever', that means he's run into something interesting. He also said it was nothing he couldn't handle. That was his ego."

Dumbledore chuckled as he sat down in one of the lounge chairs and motioned for Bill to sit in the other.

"Okay, he said he 'had a wee bout', that had to mean he got into a fight. Knowing him it was either a quick but fierce fight, or it was a good extended duel. I'm not going to surmise which. He did say he came through just fine which meant he was victorious but barely.

"And he brought us some 'bobbles and trinkets'," Bill held up the Thought Orb and other item respectively.

"Have you seen what was in the Thought Orb yet?"

"No, I felt I should wait for you."

"Well why don't we see what Mr. Killroy thinks is so important," the Headmaster said taking hold of the Orb, "Ready?"

Bill nodded and they both squeezed at the same time. The silver-gray smoke escaped from the Thought Orb and simultaneously shot out towards Bill and the Headmaster. Bill saw a brief flash of white and then he was in the memory.

The odd thing was, it was from Darrin's perspective. Bill tried calling out to Dumbledore but found that he couldn't. Apparently, he was stuck as Darrin until the memory was over.

The scene played out before Bill's eyes. The masquerade charms, the silencing charm. What shocked Bill was seeing the various dark spells in that little black book of Darrin's. He could hear Darrin whisper "Chronos Inverté but felt as if he said the words himself.

He saw the entirety of Darrin's memory including why he cast Cryo-immobilous on the other item. Then he saw the fight between Darrin and the strange man. As soon as Darrin's wand was in his hand, he felt the sensation of Apparating and then the memory was over. The smoke retreated from his eyes and back into the Orb. Then it turned pitch black and evaporated completely.

It wasn't supposed to do that.

"It seems your friend truly has a criminal mind. I commend him."

"Sir?"

"He does not take many chances. He knew that because he cast a dark spell, if the Ministry were to learn his identity, he would be in even more trouble than he already is. He forced the memory to be from his perspective so his face could not be identified. And then, when the viewing was finished, he spelled it to destroy itself, ensuring that no one else saw it.

"Quite a credit to Slytherin cunning."

"He calls it a survival trait."

"That it is. Now let us see this other trinket. I fear I already know what it may be but I must examine it closely to be sure."

Bill handed him the frozen artifact. Dumbledore removed the spell and scrutinized it in depth. Unlike the memory, it did not burn Dumbledore in the least. The diamond stayed crystal clear.

"It is exactly what I thought it to be," he said after a good minute of examining it. His voice sounded weary and sad.

"Professor, what's wrong?"

"I am afraid I can not go into details just yet. The next time the opportunity arises, please tell your friend that his work was well done, but is far from over."


	11. Accelerated Curriculum

Fan fiction: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental.

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned.

Author's Notes: Joint Herbology/DADA assignment made in deference to one of my favorite stories, The Mirror of Maybe. Unfortunately it has been removed from ff.net. You can visit the Mirror of Maybe group by cutting and pasting this link: I'm sorry to say that this will be the last chapter I post on Fanfiction.net. When I posted my author's note explaining why I hadn't updated in a long time, it was removed and my uploading "priveledges" were removed for a time. Granted it WAS a violation of the Term of Service, however inadvertent, but my anger is not that the powers that be enforce the rules, merely that they enforce them inconsistently. I have seen many such author's notes that have not been removed or other violations of the ToS that have not been dealt with, yet I am punished within less than a day. What's worse is I am a paying memeber. Well if they wish to treat me that way without so much as giving me at least one warning, them I am perfectly willing to not pay them anymore money and use another fan fiction site.

Anyone wishing to continue to read this story can do so by visiting "http://groups.yahoo.com/group/knightsofmerlinskeep/" or "http://www.gayauthors.org/navigator/" or you can email me at navigator0047hotmail.com.

Chapter 10 | Chapter Selection | Chapter 12

* * *

Simon got his wish.

The very next day, it was announced that the Head Boy Alastaire Orichalum was resigning his position as Head Boy in order to concentrate more on his upcoming N.E.W.T.s. No one was really fooled by this explanation but no one said anything. At least not where anyone involved could hear.

Alastaire was still a Prefect, but he had made himself rather scarce, only acting as a Prefect when there was no one else and the need was great. It seemed that he, Oslo and Forest were all being ostracized by the Ravenclaws. Simon was too in away, but he didn't mind in the least. It was what he had asked for and the others were still quite friendly with him when they had to work with each other.

Simon took this newfound solace and applied it to his studies. He got the homework from both the second and third year students in his house and completed it simultaneously with his first year ciriculum. He had an idea and was going to present this extra homework to the headmaster in an effort to move through the years that he was behind as quickly as possible.

He would have asked the fourth years for their homework, but Simon knew that he had a penchant for putting just a little too much on his plate when it came to school. Plus he felt that the 'Less is more' attitude would sway the headmaster to his side.

By that weekend, he had all the homework finished to his satisfaction. Considering he was a perfectionist by nature, he hoped it would exceed the professor's expectations. He grabbed his bag full of scrolls and parchments and trudged down to the Great Hall for breakfast. The Headmaster was already there to his relief.

Rather than sit down, he marched straight to the head table, earning some rather odd looks by the entire school.

When he got there, seeing all the teachers eyes on him shook his nerve and he almost turned and left. The Headmaster beat him to the punch.

"Ah, Mr. Bergstead. A very good morning to you. You have something you wish to discuss?"

Simon's brain froze. This had to be simple, right? Then why was it so damned hard?

"Um..."

"Out with it, Bergstead," Snape snapped in his notorious venomous quiet.

"Yes, sir," he almost squeaked, "With you and Professor Flitwick, if you don't mind, sirs."

"I do not mind. Do you, Fillius?"

The diminutive professor smiled with delight, "Not at all, Headmaster. Shall we use the back chamber?"

"A capitol idea, Fillius."

The two professors stood and ushered Simon into the back chamber where they could speak in private.

"Now Mr. Bergstead, what can we do for you?" the Headmaster asked cheerfully.

"I- I was wondering if it would be okay, I mean I understand if it's not but I was just wondering..."

"Simon!" Flitwick snapped Simon out of his babbling, though his voice held no anger, "We can't say yes or no if you don't finish the question."

Simon blushed, "Yes, sirs. I was wondering if I might be put on a study track that would advance me closer to my year. I know it's only been one week, but I've gotten all the second and third year assignments done for all the non-elective classes. I haven't done some of the practical work unfortunatley, mostly because of a lack of supplies but the rest I have done and I even wrote up notes on them detailing exactly what happened, and I had some of my housemates verify them..."

"Simon!" Flitwick interrupted again, "Dear boy, you really must calm down. Your babbling again."

Simon blushed even further. It apparently didn't matter if it was Oxford or Hogwarts, his teachers made him nervous and therefore, he babbled.

"Sorry sir," he bowed his head, mostly to hide the red flush.

"So what exactly did you have in mind, Mr. Bergstead, or were we supposed to figure this out for you?" the Headmaster asked, clearly baiting the boy. Professor Flitwick threw him a rare but well deserved scowl which gave Albus even more amusement.

"Oh no sir," Simon's head shot back up, "I have it all worked out assuming you and the other professors agree to it. I can also modify it if you feel it's too much, but I assure you, I feel that I can keep up to pace with both the second and third years. I supppose I could even keep up with the fourth years, but I didn't want you to think I was taking on too much. I sometimes do that, but I'm positive I'll be able to handle the first three years with no problems. I even memorized the history texts Professor Binns uses for all seven years. I had some free time..."

"SIMON!"

"Yes, Professor Flitwick?" he finally squeaked.

"If you babble anymore in this conversation I will dock points. I'd say for the rest of the day but I can't expect miracles. Now tell me again, you say you _memorized_ the entire seven year ciriculum for history of magic?"

"Yes Professor, at least the ones he's using this year. I didn't know if he changed his texts from year to year but," Simon slapped his mouth shut as he realized he was about to babble yet again.

"No, he certainly does not. You _memorized_ them? _ALL_ of them?"

"Yes sir."

Albus chuckled, "Perhaps we should have him teach History of Magic. He might make it more interesting."

"If he didn't babble his way through it." Flitwick agreed, "You said you did all the homework for all first three years?"

"For non-electives. I didn't want to presume that you'd allow it so I didn't take on any of the electives."

Flitwick gave the Headmaster a questioning look.

"It would not hurt to see if he is up to par. Though we would have to have the other professors judge on their respective classes."

"Very well. Let me see your charms work."

Simon went to the table and carefully set out the various scrolls. He organized them by class and then handed the charms work to Professor Flitwick.

Even Dumbledore was impressed with the number of scrolls on the table.

"This may take some time. Simon, you are still a growing boy and should get some breakfast. Please ask Professors Snape, McGonagall and Sprout to join us in here."

"Yes Headmaster," Simon answered, already on his way out the door.

When he shut it behind him, he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. He then realized that most of the eyes in the Great Hall were once again focused on him. Fighting down his embarassment, he walked over to Professor Sprout, as she was not only the closest, but the least intimidating.

"The Headmaster instructed me to request you, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape please join him and Professor Flitwick in the back chamber."

She looked at him curiously then shruged and nodded to her fellow heads of household. They all stood, with Professors McGonagall and Snape giving Simon odd looks. Snape's was more of derision, but after two classes with him, he expected nothing less.

As they made their way to the back chamber, Simon walked the short distance to the Ravenclaw table. He was immediately accosted by several of his housemates.

"What did you do?"

"Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"Did you get detention?"

Simon just sat down and put his head in his arms on the table.

"Oh I think I made a terrible mistake," he groaned into the table, "Terrible, terrible mistake."

"Well what's going on, Simon?" one of the first years asked.

"My life is over, that's what's going on," he groaned melodramatically back.

Not able to get anything further from him, they left him be at the end of the table and gossiped amongst themselves about what might be going on.

After a few minutes, Simon's growling stomach got the better of him so he dished himself up some breakfast. He ate silently, begining to calm down now that he had time to think about things clearly. The worst they could possibly do was say no.

The door to the back chamber slammed open and Snape stormed out, giving Simon a venemous glare. All eyes turned to him as he looked at the remaining professors.

"Staff meeting, now," he growled as only Snape could. He looked at the Slytherin ghost, "Baron, summon Professor Binns."

The Bloody Baron took a quick look at Simon and gave the boy an evil sneer as he floated off to find Professor Binns. Simon stared blankly into the wall where the Baron had disappeared into for almost a full minute before Snape broke his trance.

"Mr. Bergstead," he said with a vile politeness, "Since we are being generous enough to interrupt our breakfast to discuss your academic future, the least you can do is participate in the conversation."

'No, _THAT_ was the worst thing they could do.'

Simon felt as if he were walking on death row. The whispers from the other students made it all the worse. As he passed by Professor Snape, the Potions Master gave him a look of absolute disgust normally reserved for Gryffindors.

Simon sped up if only to put as much distance between him and Snape as possible.

The back room was now full of most of the teaching staff. Professors McGonagal and Sprout were reviewing some of the scrolls that Simon had written. Professor Flitwick had begun handing out several more to the other professors to review as well. Snape just stood in front of the now closed door as if he were preventing Simon from leaving.

After a few minutes, Professor Binns floated through the painting of a wisened witch. Her protestations went largely ignored as Professor Dumbledore called everyone to order.

"Mr. Bergstead has made a request that we allow him to advance into a higher year," he began, "In effort to prove himself capable, he has completed each of the homework assignments given for all of the first, second and third year non-elective classes. This apparently includes the joint extra credit third year assignment between Professor Weasley and Professor Sprout. Something which wasn't due until end of this term if I'm correct."

"I'd like to see that, Professor," the red-haired professor stepped forward.

Professor Sprout handed him a scroll as she shook her head, "It's at the very least 'E' level work as far as Herbology. I'd give it an 'O' but not without seeing the results of the practical portion for myself."

Simon didn't know exactly what the 'E' or 'O' meant but some of the other professors looked impressed and nodded approvingly, so he figured it couldn't have been bad at all.

"I suspect that the practical portion was not completed," Bill stated as he perused the scroll, "It was designed to take at least two weeks to complete."

"No, sir," Simon admitted, "I admit some of the practical requirements I was unable to complete, mostly because of time constraints or in the case of Potions, lack of needed ingredients."

"Well it's good to know that some students don't resort to raiding my pivate stores," Snape said sardonically, earning a reproachful look from the Headmaster.

"Well I am forced to agree with Professor Sprout," Bill said rolling the scroll back up and handing it back to the Herbology professor, "This is exceptional work. Even more so given that he has not had either mine or Professor Sprout's lectures. We haven't even begun these topics in our third year classes yet."

"And this Transfiguration essay is remarkable" Professor McGonagall added, "But I am forced to wonder when Mr. Brgstead managed to read all the books required to complete these assignments. I do not wish to doubt that all of this work is his own, but it seems improbable that anyone would have enough time in one week to be able to complete all of it."

"I would agree, Professor," Simon said, more than a little nervous that he would not be believed, "but my grandfather left me quite a collection of books and tomes, including some of the school texts. I have read several of the simpler ones over the summer. It was from those that I was able base my work."

"And you brought those books with you?"

"No ma'am."

"Then what did you reference for your work?" McGonagall seemed to be getting a little annoyed.

"If what he told me earlier was true," Professor Flitwick interjected, "Then I would say the he referenced his own memory. He claims to have memorized all the texts for History of Magic."

The only ones in the room at that moment who weren't surprised were Dumbledore, Flitwick and Simon.

"Mr. Bergstead," Professor Sinistra spoke, "You have only been in my class once and I knew immediately that you were brilliant, but to have memorized the _entire_ ciriculum for History of Magic?"

"Perhaps we should test the boy," the ghostly Professor Binns interrupted, "After all if he memorized all seven years of texts, I see no reason why he should continue with History. There wouldn't be much more I could teach him."

Most of the other professors nodded, but not for the same reason as Professor Binns was thinking.

"And what would that accomplish, outside of proving that Mr. Bergstead has the ability to retain largely unused facts?" Professor Snape asked, his voice uncharacteristically calm, "If we are to allow him to advance even one year, I would like to be certain that he is adequate to the task. He needs to understand the concepts. Simple memory retention will not be enough."

"I agree with Professor Snape," McGonagall added, "I will support his advancement if he passes both a written and practical exam."

"And what say the rest of you?" Dumbledore asked.

All of the other professors nodded their agreement save for Professor Snape.

"As I am clearly in the minority," he said with a note of mild annoyance, "I will reluctantly agree to this, provided that he spend at least one hour every day in potions tutoring with either myself or a tutor of my choosing, until I am completely satisfied that he is caught up with his chosen year. Potion making is too exact an art to allow anything less.

"Which reminds me, what year are we going to let him advance to?"

"That is a good question, Professor Snape," Albus noted, "Simon, what year do you think you you would be capable of handling?"

More than several of the Professor had looks or mutterings of disapproval, and Simon could guess that they thought he would try and tackle the seventh year. Simon wouldn't have minded trying, but magic was still a completely new concept for him and though he had learned a lot from just reading his grandfather's books, he knew that something so esoteric and strange could not be completely comprehended without lots of experience.

"Well sir," he began, his voice meek, "I honestly do not know enough about magic to truly make an informed opinion. I do believe that I can handle at least through third year, though I would like to try for fourth. Perhaps if you gave me a comprehensive test that included material for all seven years and then used that as a guide.

"Truthfully, I mostly want to advance closer to my own age group so I don't feel so... out of place."

"An understandable sentiment," Dumbledore nodded, "And I appreciate your efforts at remaining objective. I think a comprehensive test would be in order, however, I must impress upon you that whatever decision is made, it will be final. You are an unusual circumstance and I believe we can try to accomidate you, but it can only go so far. Is that understood, Mr. Bergstead?"

Simon thought for a second, making sure he understood everything. A thought popped in his head at the last moment.

"Do they have summer school for wizards?"

Several of the professors laughed but it wasn't a mocking laugh. Dumbledore smiled and his eyes twinkled.

"Your tenacity will do you credit, however, I must unfortunately tell you no, there is no summer school. At least not in Europe. I do believe the Americans often provide summer programs but then, you would have to transfer to their school system."

Simon nodded. It was worth a shot.

"I understand. Whatever or wherever I end up is it until graduation."

"Correct. You will have two weeks to prepare yourself, but, you will not be excused from your current classes or assignments. It would not be fair to the other students. However if your professors are willing, they might allow you to optimize your time in their class. You will be given permission to access certain texts from the restricted section, but you may not remove them.

"By this evening, I will give you a study guide, but it is a guide only. Your professors may ask of you any tasks they would ask a respective student for that year and you must pass to their satisfaction. I will review your scores and decide, with the input of your professors, which year is best suited for you. You will be notified the evening our decision is made.

"If there is nothing else?"

"No sir," Simon knew a dismissal when he heard it, "Thank you all very much."

"Then might I suggest you begin immediately. Have a good day, Simon."

"Thank you, Professor."

Simon made a quick exit. There were only a few students left in the Great Hall and they all looked at him expectantly. Simon couldn't help but smile. He might fail miserably and not be allowed to advance at all, but at least he could try, and that's all he needed.

"So not in trouble, then?" a cheeky first year Gryffindor asked.

"I'll tell you in two weeks," Simon smiled even more as he left to fetch his books.

* * *

Kim was in the middle of charms class when it happened. As he imagined the spark's red color, he swished, flicked and concentrated his magic. It was at that exact moment that he felt the tingling sensation his parents had warned him about. It lasted no more than a second, but Kim knew exactly what it meant.

But unfortunately for Kim, the surprise had affected the magic he was trying to perform. Instead of a red spark, his wand shot out a yellow spark. And it was a big one. He didn't hear the loud bang that reverberated throughout the charms class room, but he sure felt it. Especially as the cuncussion was enough to knock him off his feet.

Shaking his head to clear it, Aaron couldn't help but laugh. Professor Flitwick, who had been standing on his usual set of books, was also knocked to the ground. He looked most annoyed with Aaron.

"Really Mr. Devlin!" he snapped as he picked himself up, "I would think that you would set a better example for the students."

"I'm sorry, Professor," he said as he helped Flitwick up, still chuckling, "I just remember doing the same thing twenty years ago."

"Yes, and you laughed then, too," Flitwick growled, "incorigable brat."

Aaron had to stifle even more laughs. It was a rare thing to get Professor Flitwick upset, it was even rarer to get him to actually say something in front of the students. Aaron imagined himself chalking up one point for his accomplishment.

He quickly signed to Kim.

[So what went wrong?]

[I got surprised by something,] Kim tried to be ambiguous.

[And that was?]

[It felt like a ghost walked through me,] he lied. He knew what it felt like to have a ghost walk through him as he had accidentaly done so through several of the Hogwarts ghosts already.

"Peeves!" Flitwick shouted, even more annoyed, "That bloody poltergeist knows better than to disturb a class."

[I don't know if it was Peeves, sir,] Kim was quick to interject before his lie got to far out of hand, [It just felt like a ghost. It might have been that I was concentrating to hard.]

Flitwick gave both Kim and Aaron a look, not sure if Kim had picked up any of Aaron's old habits yet, but then he shrugged.

"Well it's your first week. I have no doubt that some of you will cause even bigger explosions throughout the years. Alright everyone, that's good for today. Make sure you practice your sparks _OUTSIDE_. We don't want any accidents."

Kim was one of the first students out the door. Without even waiting for Aaron, he raced up to the owlery. When he got there, he jotted out a quick note to his parents. Aaron walked in just as he was tying it to a barn owl's leg. Without giving Aaron a chance to ask what was going on, Kim signed to him.

[I need you to tell her to take this to my parents and to wait for their reply. It's important.]

Aaron did so and only when the barn owl was well on her way, Kim relaxed. Aaron, putting one and one together stopped him short of leaving the owlery.

[Hold up,] he signed, not vocalizing his words, [I _know_ this has something to do with your little explosion. What's going on, Kim?]

[It's nothing.]

Aaron gave a look of utter disbelief.

[Don't con me, kid. Something happened and I want to know what?]

Kim took a deep breath while he tried to come up with a plausible lie.

[I had just remembered something that I forgot to tell my parents and the spell got away from me.]

[And can I ask what was so important?]

Kim couldn't keep eye contact so he just shook his head, [It's private.]

Aaron wasn't fooled for one instant with Kim's lie, but he remembered how all three of them had acted in Diagon Alley when they had met Harry Potter. He decided that he would wait and see if anything else happened before pressing the issue. He motioned for Kim to follow him to their next class.

Professor Snape was not pleased at Kim's tardiness or his explanation and docked Gryffindor ten points as a result.

That evening, an hour before his bedtime, the owl returned to Kim in the Gryffindor common room. It dropped the letter off and then flew away before it could be sent out again. Kim opened the thick letter.

Inside, he found his parent's letter, a drawing of a crest and a platinum pin that bore the insignia of the Knights of Merlin's Keep. Kim stared at the pin hard. Only fully inducted members got pins, and they were usually gold.

Kim had to restrain himself from yelling out with joy. This meant he had been given a name among the Knights and he was a full member with all rights. Kim knew it was only a matter of time before that would happen, but to come so soon and the fact that they gave him a platinum pin really astonished him.

But it also scared him. They would not have done this without great need. As it was, Lord Morgan was not happy with his decision to induct Kim because of his youth, but the circumstances demanded it. However, Lord Morgan did not perform all of the initiation rites, stating that they would only do what was absolutely necesarry. Something big must have happened.

Kim pocketed the pin, reminding himself to hide it in his trunk. Then he opened the letter from his parents. It was long, and full of the usual rhetoric that was expected of parents who had just sent their children away to boarding school, but Kim knew better. The letter was written in a code.

He looked at what day his mother signed the letter. It was the ninth day of the month. Kim remembered that meant every fifth character was the real message. He took out a quill and parchment and scratched out the note. When it was finished, he re-read the new letter carefully.

His mother was brief, but very much to the point. She told him his name among the Knights and what it meant and about Lear and how the Key was believed to have been found and recovered by a wizard. She also mentioned that the Matron gave permission for Kim to go to Dumbledore in the event of an emergency. He was to show his pin to Dumbledore and answer all his questions as concisely and honestly as possible, but only if it were a true emergency.

Her last instruction was to keep them up to date on what was going on with Harry Potter. He would not need to write out his reports in the code, but keep it vauge enough to not arouse suspicion in case his letter was read.

Kim folded up the secret note once, took a good look at the crest that he now knew was his and then tossed both of them into the fire. He watched until he was satisfied that nothing but ash remained.

Tomorrow, Tilhører would begin his duty in earnest. The listener would be listening.

* * *

Every free moment Simon could muster was put to use in his quest to advance. He studied during breakfast, lunch and dinner, free time and whenever he had available time in class. Most of the professors were willing to let him do so when he was finished with that day's assignment so it was a great boon. Professor Flitwick even spared him a few extra minutes to explain the differences between Wingardium Leviosa and the Mobile spell. (Mobilcorpus and Mobilarbus from PoA, used on living things as opposed to inanimate objects.)

Professor Snape was one of the few who did not allow it, but the potions required all session to brew anyway. Simon also noted that Snape had not berated him for anything that week. In fact he seemed almost pleased when he noticed how Simon had organized his desk everytime they brewed a potion.

Simon memorised every book that he was allowed to access from the Restricted section. He figured the fewer times he would have to bother Madam Pince the happier he would be and her mistrusting glares he got those few times that he did were proof of that.

By the end of the two weeks he had studied so hard that he managed to give himself a headache and nose bleed. Something he promised himself not to do since graduating Secondary school. Oh well, it was for a good cause. At least that's what he told himself as he marched himself to the hospital wing. After the dressing down he got from Madam Pomfrey, he decided that the cause was not that noble and to avoid hurting himself further.

It was now Saturday and the day of the tests had arrived. Professor Dumbledore owled him a schedule that morning at breakfast. The history test was first. If he passed that, the other professors had a minor written exam each. Then in the afternoon, the practical exams would begin, starting with Potions.

Simon ate a healthy breakfast and then went out for a quick jog to get his blood flowing. He returned just in time to grab his supplies and return to the Great Hall where the testing would take place.

"Over here if you please, Mr. Bergstead," the Headmaster indicated a desk that sat right before the head table, "We shall conduct your written examinations here."

Simon set his bag down next to the wall as he noticed that quill, ink and parchment were going to be provided. He presumed, correctly, that they were bewitched with anti-cheating spells. Simon didn't mind. He didn't need to cheat.

It took him a good chunk of the morning to finish the History exam, but by the looks of Professor Binns and Dumbledore, he guessed that he was just slightly ahead of what they expected. Professor Snape practically swooped in with his examination. Simon guessed that he was determined to try and keep Simon down as many grades as he could. Simon just breathed in and out a few times, then plowed right into the questions.

This exam was hardly minor in Simon's opinion, but he said nothing. He was determined to beat Snape at his own game if he could. He didn't expect to get everything right on all of the test, but if he could just to show Snape up, then he would. He thought every answer carefully before writing it out. By the time he was finished, it was half an hour before lunch time.

Professor McGonagall handed Simon her test with no preamble, motioning for him to hasten. Simon guessed that whatever he couldn't finish before lunch, he wouldn't be allowed to start after, so he wasted no time in trying to finish all the tests he could.

Unlike Professor Snape, the other professors were apparently trying to legitamately guage his competence rather than sabotage it, so the tests were quite easier. In the end, he ran out of time before he could finish his charms exam, but as he looked at the questions that he couldn't answer, he knew that it didn't matter. He didn't know what the answers were anyway. All of the other exams he managed to finish.

He shook his hand to stretch it out and managed to pop a few joints.

"See Madam Pomfrey for a salve before your practical exam, Mr. Bergstead." Professor Flitwick's tone made the order perfectly clear to Simon. But the look on his face showed great pride. Simon couldn't help but smile.

"Yes, Professor."

After lunch and the brief visit to the hospital wing, Simon returned to the Great Hall. The house tables had been removed and there were several stations that Simon would take his practical exams. Snape had a two large stone tables, one set up with six standard size 2 cauldrons, the other full of jars of ingredients. Simon was curious for a second as to the location of the seventh cauldron but that was soon answered as he came closer. It stood on the floor due to its size. Simon surmized it was a size 5 or 6. What shocked him was that it was solid gold.

Snape sneerd at him as he recovered from his obvious shock.

"I trust that there will be no mistakes with these potions, Mr. Bergstead. Though the school provided these regular cauldrons, this gold cauldron is one from my personal supply. I will be most displeased if you damage it."

Simon gulped.

Professor McGonagall scowled her displeasure at the potion master's obvious intimidation of Simon, but could say nothing. The other professors next to her seemed to also be in a rather annoyed state at Professor Snape, but he noticed none of it, or he was very good at ignoring it.

"Shall we begin?"

Simon took the parchment that had the potions list on it. Some of the more advanced ones would require brewing all day, but only one required that he actually attend to it regularly. The others could just simmer for a few hours. Simon decided to start on those first and then he would check up on them periodically throughout the day. Snape seemed both annoyed yet impressed by Simon's choice.

He went to the ingredients table and instantly recognized the organization. He silently thanked God for Snape's unwavering consistency when it came to dealing with potions. He pulled out the ingredients that he needed for the first potion. Setting them out in the order and portions needed, he replaced the jars so he would know where to find them again. Snape was again impressed but annoyed.

The first three potions were started and now Simon had to begin the one that required use of the gold cauldron. Again, he pulled out the ingredients necessary for the potion, but had to ponder where he was going to get the water to start with. The pitcher on the table seemed to only have enough for the other potions.

After a full minute, Professor Snape cleared his throat.

"Lost already, Mr. Bergstead? You could always start the other potions."

"But this one is rather elementary even though it requires a gold cauldron," Simon replied with a furrowed brow, looking at the cauldron rather than the professor, "If I don't brew that one, I am sure to fail."

"Well then use what water you have left and brew the potion."

"Then I won't be able to brew the other potions and I'll still fail."

"Hmm.. Maybe if you hadn't bothered with the more advanced potions first you could have passed at least the second year potion. Tyipical Bergstead arrogance if I ever saw it. Tut tut, Mr. Bergstead, I'm disappointed."

Snape's voice and facial expression told Simon he was anything but disappointed, but Simon had a bout of inspiration that he knew _would_ disappoint the potions master. Simon gave the potions master a plotting smile.

"Creo Aquula!" he yelled with a flick of his wand. A stream of water shot from his wand and filled the cauldron. Snape scowled like there was no tomorrow. So focused on annoying Professor Snape, Simon missed the other professors chuckles.

"Finité!" he yelled again when the cauldron was full enough. Snape was apparently out of tricks as Simon ran into no more snags while he started the remaining potions. He monitored and tended the one that he knew would turn bad if he left it unattended until it was done. He filled one of the flasks that Snape had set out for the finished product.

"Evanesco!" Simon evaporated the rest of the potion. Several of the other potions were now also finished and he bottled them up as well. Now all he had to do was occasionally tend to the remaining three throughout the day. He could now move on to the next practical exam.

Each professor had their turn with Simon. None of them made it easy for him but they had not gone out of their way to make it more difficult like Professor Snape had. Professor Flitwick even gave Simon extra credit for his intelligent use of the create water charm, much to Professor Snape's ire.

Professor Weasley's practical exam had to be the most difficult, Simon mused. He had to duel the professor. Simon came out a little worse for wear in that one he was sure but he had thrown in a few good spells. Professor Weasley was most impressed with his use of Accio on his shoes. It had managed to not only trip the red-haired professor, it left him shoeless throughout the remainder of the duel.

Only when Professor Weasley finally managed to disarm Simon did he call the duel over. Simon was twitching a little as he pulled himself up from the floor.

"Finité Incantatum," the Headmaster called out, cancelling Bill's twitching curse. Simon sighed in relief as Bill handed him his wand back.

"Not bad, Mr. Bergstead," he smiled. Simon caught his breath and tried not to blush as he looked the Professor in his wonderfully blue eyes.

"I won't lie, you are definitely not what I'd consider seventh year material but given your lack of experience, you did quite well."

"Thank you, Professor," Simon really tried not to blush now, only it was more due to the compliment.

He quickly broke eye contact and hastily made his way to the stone tables where his remaining potions were just finished brewing. One of them looked nothing like it was supposed to and Simon frowned. He could have sworn he had that one right, but there was no time to figure it out. Professor Snape was waiting. He bottled the potions and cleaned the cauldrons, double checking that the gold cauldron was absolutely spotless. Snape seemed very satisfied that Simon had paid extra attention to his cauldron.

"Very well, Mr. Bergstead," Dumbledore said already clearing the other exam stations away with his wand, "We will review your performance and inform you of our descision within the week. You will begin your new year, if any the following Monday."

"Yes, Professor. Thank you."

"You are quite welcome. Now why don't you go enjoy the rest of your day."

"I will, Professor," Simon smiled.

* * *

Simon woke up by the lake feeling very contented. He became even more contented when he noticed that Harry Potter, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had apparently joined him.

"The sleeper has awakened!" Hermione quipped.

Simon stretched and yawned, "I don't feel like the Kwisatz Haderach, but thank you anyway."

Hermione broke out into a minor fit of giggles which caused Ron to frown. Simon wasn't supposed to make his girlfriend giggle.

"The what?" Harry asked, not noticing Ron's displeasure.

"Kwisatz Haderach. It's a reference to a muggle book called 'Dune' written by Frank Herbert."

"It's nice to know that I'm not the only one around who reads," Hermione said, placing her arms around Ron, noticing his slight jealousy, "Though I have to admit, it wasn't one of my favorite books."

"Mine either," Simon replied, "I think my favorite book would have to be Patrick O'Brian's 'Master and Commander'. Rather I like his whole series of books.

"I would have never thought you'd be interested in books about the sea." Hermione said.

"And that's true enough, but I like it more for his portrayal of the friendship between Jack Aubrey and Stephen Maturin than anything else. The two men are so different yet they manage to cultivate a very deep friendship." Simon sighed as he mused about his favorite characters, "What I wouldn't give to have a friendship like that."

"Well you've got us, haven't you?" Harry asked, wanting to see how Simon would react.

"As much as I appreciate the sentiment, Harry, it takes years to build a friendship like that."

"Or mountatin troll" Ron muttered prompting ear to ear grins from both Harry and Hermione.

Simon raised an eyebrow at the three, knowing there was much more behind that statement.

"Do I really want to know how a mountain troll fits into this conversation or is it better if I just accept it and move on?" he asked with an amused smirk.

"What do you think, should we tell him or leave him thinking us strange." Harry asked his two long-time friends.

"He'd have to swear never to tell anyone else. I don't doubt Old McGonagall would take away points even after so long if she found out what really happened." Ron said, "Not to mention the detentions she'd hand out."

Hermione squeezed him in her arms, "I don't think she'd be that angry, Ron."

"Hermione Granger bold-faced lies to a teacher, our head of house I might add, and you don't think she wouldn't be angry?" Harry asked, prompting Hermione to turn very red.

Simon sat up straight, "Now I must hear this story!" he exclaimed, "Hermione lying to a teacher? I can't believe it."

Herminone buried her head into Ron's chest in embarassment as Ron and Harry explained what had happened in their first year. Simon was flabbergasted.

"Wow!" he finally managed, "I never dreamed such creatures could exist. And to take one on when you were so young."

"Truthfully it was Ron who did most of the work," Harry replied, "I just distracted it."

Ron's ears went pink at hearing Harry describe him as the hero.

"Even still." Simon shook his head in amazement.

"Now you musn't tell a soul, Simon." Hermione chided, "We could still get into very serious trouble."

Simon held his hand to his heart. "I swear to God and on my parents graves that I will tell no one... At least not until you've graduated."

"Fair enough." Harry said.

Simon yawned and lie back on the ground. "Oh I'm so tired. I worked myself to exaustion these past two weeks, getting up early and staying up late."

"So what was that all about anyway?" Hermione asked. "Rumor has it your trying to advance yourself into seventh year."

Simon chuckled as he sleepily closed his eyes.

"Close," he replied, "Remember when the Pofessor's had an impromptu staff meeting two weeks ago? I had asked them to advance me into a higher class. To prove that I could handle it, I did all the homework assignments given out the first week for years one through three."

"Blimey! You _are_ worse than Hermione." Ron said, promptly getting smacked in the stomach none to lightly by his girlfriend.

Simon just laughed in response. "I admit that I'm an over-achiever, but I wanted to be closer to what my year would be if I had started four years ago. So Professor Dumbledore and the rest of the staff agreed to test me to see what year I would be advanced to. They gave me the last two weeks to study and today was the test day."

"You studied seven years of magic in two weeks?" Ron asked disbelievingly.

Simon's eyes shot wide open but he remaind lying on the ground. "No, no, no. I couldn't have possibly studied for all seven years in just two weeks. I'm smart but I'm not _that_ smart.

"Professor Dumbledore gave me a study guide. Starting with that, I asked various seventh years what to expect on the end of term exams. From that point I guessed what would I would most likely be tested on and studied those topics. I already know I aced history, but even though I'm sure I did well on the rest of the exams, I doubt they would place me higher than fourth year.

"Personally, I would hope they won't. There is a lot more to magic than I could possibly learn in seven years, much less three. I am confident I could catch up with you guys eventually, but I don't want to miss anything on the way."

Hermione smiled with delight. "It's such a relief to finally have a friend who thinks the way I do.

"Yeah," Ron said, "You're both mental!"

"Ronald Weasley, you are such an insensitive jerk!" Hermione yelled and stormed off.

"Hermione, wait!" Ron ran off after her, "I didn't mean it like that!"

Simon looked at Harry with some mild worry, but soon relaxed as he saw that Harry was quite amused by the event.

"As I said, It'll last forever or they'll try and kill each other by year's end." He said with a grin. Simon grinned slightly in return.

"I hope he won't be angry with me."

"Well he might get a little jealous because you and Hermione relate so well, but I wouldn't worry about it too much. She really likes him a lot and deep down he knows it."

"Well I admit she's kind of nice, but definitely not my type."

Harry raised an eyebrow at the other boy, who had already closed his eyes again.

"So what is your type?" he asked trying to be non-chalant.

Simon's eyes opened fully but he did not look at Harry directly.

He thought about what to say, the sorting hat's words echoing through his mind. 'Your kind is not regarded well in this world' it said. He knew that the hat was talking about his sexuality. Apparently the wizarding world was just as unaccepting of gays as the Muggle world.

"I can't honestly say," he replied, his words meaning more than they implied, "But I don't think my type would be someone too much like me. I mean, it's kind of silly to date oneself, don't you think?"

"And Hermione is too much like you?"

"Close enough. From what I've heard about her, she could easily be the posterchild for Ravenclaw. I've only been here for three weeks and already I've been voted by my housemates as 'Most likely to be Rowena Ravenclaw's heir'.

Harry felt a chill down his spine when Simon mentioned being an heir to one of the founders, his encounters with Slytherin's heir once again in his thoughts. Simon did not notice Harry's sudden uncomfortableness as he was trying to talk himself out of his own less than comfortable state.

"Apparently, the one who held that honor before me was the one who nominated me. Thank goodness it was an unofficial and unscientiic poll. I'd shudder to think if everyone in my house thought that. Can you imagine the pressure of having so many people look at you as some sort of idol?"

Harry snorted in disgust. Simon looked at him in curiosity and got a mild glare in return.

"I think I can imagine that quite well, thanks," he said derisively.

It took Simon a second to comprehend why Harry was so upset.

Oh my God," he said as he sat up, "Harry, I am so sorry. I didn't mean it like that... I mean, I did, but I didn't mean to say that you didn't, I mean... Oh shit I'm such an idiot!"

Harry did a take when Simon swore. Though he had only known the other boy for a short time, he knew enough about him that he did not like profanity in the least. But he did have to agree with Simon on one small point; his statement was pretty idiotic.

Simon took a deep breath to collect his thoughts so he could explain himself. "Look, I admit that I'm not very good in social situations. I always end up saying exactly the worst thing someone could say. I could repeat the entirety of the U.S. Constitution, backwards, and in several different languages but I still can't manage to keep my foot out of my mouth."

Harry's annoyance dissipated at hearing Simon's words and more so his tone. The other boy was truly sorry.

He sighed.

"I'm not going to lie to you, Simon. That I'm supposed to be the wizarding world's saviour is not something I'm happy about. All I did against Voldemort was survive, nothing more. I don't know what you've heard or read about me, but I can assure you that whatever it was, it's far from the whole story. I admit, I'm a little sensitive about these things, so I tend to maybe overreact a little but I know you didn't mean anything by it."

Simon looked at Harry's sheepish smile and returned one of slight embarassment. The two just sat there for a time smiling at one another. After almost a minute, Simon felt himself go flush with embarrassment.

"Umm... I should probably take a nap before dinner." he said nervously as he stood.

He wasted no time in heading towards the castle. Before Harry could even object, Simon had already passed him and was well on his way. Harry did manage to catch the slight bulging in the boy's pants as he passed. He also noticed that Simon was trying his best to readjust himself as to better hide it on his way back.

Harry couldn't decide whether he should be happy or sad. Simon obviously enjoyed their little staring contest, but he seemed so freaked out by it. He definitely liked Simon in more than a platonic way and he hoped Simon felt the same way, but after seeing what happend between Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, he didn't want to get his hopes up.

Dean and Seamus had fooled around for most of their fourth year, but for Seamus, it was just a little experimentation. He found that he difinitely liked girls but Dean had thought there was something more. Thankfully his roommates managed to work it out without any noticable fallout but with Simon the situation was totally different.

For one, Harry only knew him for less than two months. Dean and Seamus has been good friends for three years and still were. Secondly, Dean and Seamus we not only in the same year, but the same house which put them in the same dorm room. Though Simon was Harry's age, he was a Ravenclaw. No midnight sneaks into the other's bed for them. Lastly, Harry honestly didn't think Simon could keep it to himself. Oh he was sure the boy would keep their secret about the mountain troll, but this was a whole different ball of wax.

Simon was a very emotional person and everyone knew it. If Harry propositioned him and Simon was in fact not gay, it could be very bad for Harry. If Simon was and they tried to have a relationship, what would happen if it didn't work out? And if it did, how could either one of them keep it a secret?

The most frightening thing to Harry was what would happen if it got out that either one of them was gay. Harry felt that he could deal with it. Most of the Gryfindors would either not care or support him and all would back him up in a fight out of principal, but he knew nothing of the other houses. Did the Ravenclaws have a similar house bond?

Harry sat by the lake thinking about his problem until it was dinner time. Then he took his woes with him back to the castle, hopefully where he could sort them out on a full stomach.

* * *

Chapter 10 | Chapter Selection | Chapter 12


	12. No more games

Fan fiction: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental.

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned.

Author's Notes: This story is a work in progress. I am in school and work full time so updates may not be as often as anyone might like. As always, please read & review.

TIMELINE NOTE: This story was started long before I knew when the Order of the Phoenix was going to be released. I have read OotP and I will be modifying how the Hogwarts faculty treats the O.W.L.S. to follow that. Plot-wise however, I will be taking a different route.

For those of you who haven't read OotP yet, where HAVE you been?

**Addendum Note 5-6-07:** Well, sometimes one has to eat one's own words. I'm still upset with for thier past transgressions, but alas, this site is the only one I currently have an account with and I have no desire or time to create new accounts elsewhere. I am updating through chapter 15 but that is all I have written. I do plan on continuing this story when the opportunity arises, but it is very low priority. Many appologies to my few loyal readers and also to those who might have been loyal readers were it not for the lack of updates.

Please view my profile for the URL to my yahoo groups page.

* * *

Aaron sat behind Kim as the boy was attempting to cast the Lumos spell without words. Kim had quickly come accustomed to casting the simple spells that didn't require words like the spark spell. He managed to create all sorts of colors and sizes of sparks and was able to create them on command, however the spells that required words were still difficult for him.

Aaron decided that the best thing to do was teach him the most useful spells first so he would have them on hand. They started with Lumos and had been working with it over the past week. Aaron originally thought it would take much longer but Kim seemed to be adapting exceptionally well. Much better than Aaron had when he was younger but then, Aaron mused, he had never been a big believer in magic to begin with.

Kim, on the other hand, seemed like he believed in magic his whole life. Even though he was having difficulty with the simple light spell, the boy was not even the least bit discouraged. Aaron wondered if the sorting hat hadn't made a mistake placing him Gryffindor when the boy so obviously was a Hufflepuff, but he admitted that he had a personal bias. Even though he only went to Hogwarts for one year it left a lasting impression on him, and not just the negative experiences either.

And that's one thing that really troubled him. Bill had hit home with his comment on how well he fit into the Wizarding world. Aaron didn't want to admit it, but he did. Even as a deaf man, he felt more comfortable around wizards then Muggles. When it came down to it, he was treated the same by wizard and Muggle alike, but he could identify with wizards more.

But he could not forget his parents ears, strung up on the mantle like Christmas stockings. This was done by a wizard. He never knew who, only that it was one of Voldemort's Death Eaters. His life as wizard ended the moment he had heard what had happened.

But Aaron also could not discount the fun he had at Hogwarts. Even though the other students really couldn't relate to him, some of them were his friends. And the teachers weren't all that bad. The grumpy old Potions Master Professor Bergstead seemed to like him. He was very good in potions.

Aaron's reverie was broken by Kim getting the Lumos spell to work without words.

(Very good, Kim) he signed, (Now turn it off.)

Kim's smile dropped into an annoyed frown as he thought about how to do it. He didn't actually complain about the work Aaron was giving him, but Aaron was being less than forthcoming about how to do things. Aaron's typical answer was 'Feel the magic.'

Aaron could understand the boy's frustration, but that was how he was taught by his private instructor, Mr. Garrett, so many years ago. Aaron realized much later that it was the best way, as a deaf wizard, for him to learn. Kim had the advantage of being younger than Aaron was, and so would be more receptive and able to learn. Kim would be all the better wizard for it.

(Feel the magic,) he said once again, (Feel how it behaves when you use it. Feel what you are doing.)

Determined, Kim nodded and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and then concentrated. His breathing eventually became slowed as if he were in a trance and the light from his wand slowly extinguished itself. Kim opened his eyes and looked very pleased with himself.

(Excellent!) Aaron beamed, (You've already advanced farther than I did at your age, and much faster than I had originally expected. You will still have a lot of hard work ahead of you, but I think it won't be a problem.)

Kim smiled but it was soon replaced with a thoughtful look.

(Mr. Devlin, I understand why spell words won't work for me, but why do they work at all?)

Aaron was taken aback at Kim's unexpected question. He paused to think for a moment, then picked Kim up and sat him on the teacher's desk so they could be at the same eye level.

(Truthfully Kim, I'm not entirely sure. My teacher tried to explain it to me but I don't think I ever fully understood it. Then again I don't think even he understood it completely. It's a very complex theory.)

Aaron wracked his brain to try and explain what he knew.

(Magic manifests itself through a series of foci. That's the multiple of focus. Anyway, sound is one of those. Certain sounds produce certain results. Take the light spell you just did. The word Lumos basically means to illuminate or 'light up'. Now ponder this: Does the spell work because Lumos means to light up, or does Lumos mean to light up because the spell works?)

Kim furrowed his small brow in confusion. Aaron couldn't help but grin.

(Think of it this way. Maybe one of the reasons ancient humans learned how to speak was because they were trying to invoke magic. Lumos is derived from Latin, but if a wizard were to speak the Arabic equivalent, it would work just as well. Only the more ancient languages like Latin, Arabic, Hebrew, Myan or even old Norse seem to produce any magical effect. Plain English is not very effective, at least not without another focus.)

(Well it would stand to reason that as language developed that the sounds would be associated with the results. Lumos or the ancient equivalent created light, therefore Lumos should mean light. It would be silly to have it mean something else, like asparagus.)

Kim giggled at Aaron's joke.

(Does that make it easier to think about?)

Kim thought about it for a moment, then nodded lightly.

(I think so,) he signed, (That would mean that I would have to come up with some other way to invoke the magic. Kind of trick it into thinking the sound has been made?)

Aaron was again surprised at Kim's logic. He hadn't thought of it in that manner, but he couldn't really dispute it completely.

(That's one way to think of it though I wouldn't put it quite like that. I see it more as calling upon the magic using an alternative focus, in this case, ourselves. What we are doing is different than what most wizards do, but if they took the time to practice, they would be able to cast without speaking. Most don't because it's easier just to say the word and get the effect.)

(Would that mean that I could cast magic without a wand, like you?)

Aaron took a deep breath and exhaled sharply.

(If you practiced hard and long enough, yes, but I will tell you now, I am very weak when it comes to casting magic because I don't use a wand. A wizard's wand is probably the most powerful focus there could ever be. Most of the spells that I can cast well I am only able to cast on myself. For anything else, I must have absolute concentration and even then I miss a lot. The wand not only focuses the magic, but directs it as well.)

(I think it would be best if you didn't worry about trying to learn wandless magic until you graduate.)

Kim nodded, hopped off the desk and went back to his practicing. Aaron sat down at the desk, pulled out some parchment and ink and began to write down a list of things to get. He had decided that perhaps it was time to give magic another chance, but he would take it slow. He had no ambitions of being a great wizard, but maybe getting a little more adept would be in order.

The cold realization that he should get himself a new wand hit him hard. He hadn't even started his list before he dismissed the whole idea as absurd, but he couldn't bring himself to put the parchment away. His hand gripped the quill almost as if it were a life line. Once again, Kim broke his concentration.

(Mr. Devlin, are you okay?) he signed with great concern.

Aaron blinked a few times. Apparently almost fifteen minutes had past since he picked up the quill to start his list.

(I'm fine Kim,) Aaron signed back, shaking his head to clear it. (I think I'm just a little tired is all. I used to work the night shift over in the states and my body still thinks I should be on that sleep schedule. Why don't we call it a night. Keep practicing your Lumos spell and when you can cast it almost instantly, try changing the color.)

Kim smiled greatly as he liked playing around with different colors. (I will, sir. Have a good evening and I'll see you at dinner.)

(You too.)

Aaron watched in amusement as the boy practically skipped out of the charms classroom and nearly bowled over the much larger Professor Weasley. After a quick apology, the boy was on his way again.

Bill grinned as he watched Kim skip off. "If enthusiasm was all one needed to become a great wizard, I think he'd put even Dumbledore to shame."

* * *

Harry sat in the common room with Ron and Hermione working on his Transfiguration essay. It was hard to concentrate on it though because his mind always wandered back to Simon.

Though Simon did not avoid the trio, he always seemed to have to go somewhere whenever it might appear that he and Harry would end up alone together. Harry was not fooled for a second and knew that it was because of the incident at the lake.

Groaning in frustration, Harry leaned back into the comfy chair, shoving his homework away from him.

"There he goes again." Ron muttered.

Hermione looked around and saw that the common room was mostly empty. Only some first years were in their corner watching Kim show off his wordless casting. They were suitably impressed and occupied by his little show so Hermione felt comfortable in broaching with Harry what she knew was a delicate and private subject.

"Harry, it's Simon isn't it?" she asked quietly, "No, don't even start to deny it. I've seen how you look at him. I know the signs. I AM a girl, you know."

"I don't think this is the right place to discuss this, Hermione," Harry said, noticing the others across the room.

"Oh they're only first years and Kim has got them distracted well enough," she scolded, once again looking remarkably like McGonagall, "Something happened and now it's affecting your work. I want to know what."

"It's nothing, Hermione. I admit I have a crush on him but there's nothing I can do about it so just drop it, okay?"

"No I won't drop it," she replied even more stern, "This is too important. What happened?"

Harry finally succumbed to her scowl with a sigh. "Remeber last Saturday by the lake? Well when you and Ron went off to have your argument, we just kind of chatted for a little bit. We kind of fell into an awkward silence, just smiling at each other for about a minute. Then he took off. That's it.

Hermione raised her eyebrow, knowing there was more to the story.

"Okay, okay," Harry sighed again, "When he took off I noticed he kind of... well... I really shouldn't be telling this to a girl."

"Let me guess, he was aroused?" she asked knowingly.

Harry could only nod. Ron whistled quietly.

"I guess that's proof he like boys," he said.

"But does he like me?"

"Well that should be obvious, Harry," Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation, "The only days he hadn't visited with us was when his schedule conflicted with ours so he must've enjoyed being around us. Plus the fact that he always sits next to you, never across from you."

"What proof is that?" Harry asked. Ron had to nod in agreement, even though he ultimately was agreeing with Hermione.

"Simple, Harry. He wants to feel as close as possible to you without having to look at you to distract him."

Both Ron and Harry looked at her as if she had finally gone off the deep end.

"Oh you boys are so thick!" she growled, "Look, it's all about logic. Simon is an exceptionally bright person and takes his work even more seriously than I do. Naturally he wouldn't want to get distracted, right? Well take last Saturday as an example. You said you both were quite comfortable just looking at each other. But neither of you were trying to do anything else so it didn't matter then, but when we study, if he starts looking into your eyes, he feels he won't be able to stop, hence you're a distraction.

"But if he sits next to you, he doesn't have to worry about looking at you and he gets the good feeling of just being close to you."

"Hermione, love," Ron piped in carefully, "That has got to be the weirdest idea you've ever come up with."

Harry leaned back as if to avoid the explosion but it never came. Hermione just grinned, gently pulled Ron in by the neck until their lips were barely an inch apart. Her rich brown eyes looked deep into his. She smiled warmly.

Ron tried to speak but all he could manage was a barely audible stammer, and it wasn't out of fear (at least not completely).

"Why do you think I've been sitting right next to you in class all this time? Can't have us both distracted, now can I?"

She gave him a quick peck on the lips then leaned back into her chair letting Ron suffer his loss of contact. Harry tried very hard not to laugh at the sheer frustration that was evident on Ron's now extremely flush face.

"I trust I've made my point. Face it, Harry," she leaned in closer to Harry to whisper, "Simon is mental over you."

Harry sighed with a sad smile. "And me over him, but if I tell him I know I'll just scare him off. He's so... vulnerable. I know he'll just get hurt."

"That's good of you to be concerned about him, but make sure you don't hurt yourself by doing nothing." Hermione began to pack all her things up so they could go to dinner.

Both Ron and Harry followed suit and with a quick side trips to their respective dorm rooms, the three went down to dinner. The first years, seemingly following Kim's lead, also made their way down to dinner shortly after the fifth year trio.

Harry noticed Simon was already at his table sitting among the Ravenclaw first years and in the midst of a lively conversation. Simon caught Harry looking and gave him a brief smile before he was immediately re-immersed into the conversation once again.

Rather than dwell on what he was missing, Harry just plodded along with his friends to the Gryffindor table. Kim apparently decided that his entourage was strong enough to go on without him as he sat next to Harry rather than with them. They either didn't notice or didn't care as they continued to talk about wordless magic as they sat down at the end of the table.

Harry did a minor double take at seeing Kim sit next to him. Kim just smiled in return. Harry looked at Hermione and Ron for an answer to an unasked question, to which they both shrugged and Kim grinned even more. Clearly he was amused at Harry's confusion.

Harry, for his part, was not exactly sure how to deal with the situation. Kim couldn't hear him so how could he communicate with him. It wasn't as though Harry had a problem with the boy or even with him sitting there, but he didn't think it would be polite to just ignore him.

Apparently, Aaron had been on the lookout because he showed up not a minute later.

"Hi guys," he both signed and spoke aloud, "Well Harry, it looks like it's your turn to deal with the munchkin."

Kim gave Aaron a glare at being called a munchkin but it was half-hearted at worst.

"My turn?" Harry asked, "What do you mean, my turn?"

"I mean that it's your turn to deal with him," Aaron replied as if it were obvious what he was talking about. "His majesty, Albus of Dumbledore hath decreed that young Kim here is to dine and converse with a different person each meal. There's two benefits according to our illustrious Headmaster. The first is that Kim get's good practice at socializing with hearing folks like yourself, of which I have to agree is a good thing. The second is to get hearing folks like yourself practice in the art of non-standard inter-personal social communication."

Kim rolled his eyes at Aaron's long winded explanation. Harry, still distracted with his quandary involving Simon, just looked even more confused.

"It means that we have to try and understand what he says," Hermione interjected, "Right?"

"As the Americans say, 'Bingo!'" Aaron said, "Word of advice. Talk normally but be sure to enunciate your words clearly. Kim is good at reading lips but still has some difficulty. With that and patience in mind you should do quite well. Have fun."

Harry could have sworn he heard Aaron chuckle on his way back to the head table. Harry turned back to Kim who was grinning ear to ear.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?

Harry didn't think it possible, but Kim's grin grew even bigger as he nodded. Harry just rolled his eyes but had to smile a little himself.

"Anything in particular you want to talk about?" he asked.

Kim just shrugged, however Harry didn't need a subject as the table suddenly filled itself with food. Kim dished himself up quickly and dug in as if he hadn't eaten in a week. Harry smirked as Ron had done the exact same thing. He served himself up some roast beef and mashed potatoes, slathered it in gravy and threw some corn on the side to top it off.

When they were well into their meal, Angelina Johnson came up to Harry.

"Harry, McGonagall has just informed me that I'm team captain for this year."

"That's great, Angelina!" Harry replied, "Congratulations."

"Thank you. We'll be holding tryouts for Keeper this Saturday and I want the whole team there, okay?"

"I'll be there." Harry said

Angelina then turned to Kim. "All right there, cutie?" she asked, tousling his hair prompting the boy to grin widely and blush. He nodded the affirmative as she walked away to talk to the other team members.

"Team captain?" he asked softly and almost incomprehensible to Harry when Angelina had left.

"She's the captain of the Quidditch team

"Wiidish?" he asked, trying to pronounce the unusual word.

"No, it's pronounced Quidditch. It's a sport played on broomstick.

Kim tried again, "Wiidish?"

Harry shook his head and said the word again. Kim gave him a mild glare then began to search his robe pockets. He soon pulled out a Muggle pen and a small note pad and set them on the table.

"Spell," he ordered.

Harry sighed and put down his fork so he could pick up the writing instruments. He noticed that there were more than a few other words in this note pad written in many different handwriting styles. Only the most recent two pages had things to do with magic.

Harry spelled out the word and handed the notepad and pen back to him. Kim just signed 'thank you' as he read the note pad. He mouthed the word to himself as though trying to get used to saying it naturally. Hermione was completely fascinated with this and paid rapt attention to him. Soon she noticed that he was pronouncing both the 'Q' and the 'U' separately.

"Kim," she touched the boy's hand lightly to get his attention. When he looked up, she pointed to the note pad. When he handed it to her she took her wand and muttered a spell. When she handed it back, he noticed that the 'Qu' was replaced with a 'Kw'. Kim looked at it for a moment bewildered, then realization hit him. He beamed greatly.

"Kwidditch!" he said happily.

Though the 'tch' was slightly lisped, no one could misunderstand what he had said. He then added the 'Qu' and a pair of parentheses around the 'Kw'. Hermione guessed correctly that Kim was used to having to write down both the spelling and the pronunciation of words.

This gave Hermione a wonderful idea and even though they were mostly preoccupied with eating their dinner, both Ron and Harry couldn't help but notice that look on her face.

"Oh no!" they cried simultaneously. Ron added even more, "Don't we have enough to do with our O.W.L.S. coming up?"

Hermione looked a little perturbed. "I'm just going to do some research, is all. If you two don't want to help, then fine."

By the tone of her voice, the boys knew it was anything but fine but they silently agreed with each other that they weren't going to get involved with another one of Hermione's causes. They each went back to their dinner, praying that they had heard the end of it.

* * *

Aaron, still smiling at the lost look on Harry Potter's face, sat down in his usual spot right next to Bill Weasley.

"You're in a good mood," the red-headed professor observed with a slight grin.

"They say that misery shared is misery halved," he replied, "Well I say that misery passed off to someone else is much better. Far more amusing to say the least."

"How Slytherin of you." Bill smirked, "So what's that your working on?"

Aaron tried to hide the parchment that he had made his shopping list on but Bill snatched it from his hands.

"This looks like a shopping list."

"How very astute, Weasley," Aaron said, sounding remarkably like Professor Snape in that moment, "It _IS_ in fact a shopping list."

"A wizard's shopping list. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were in danger of going back on your vow of never doing magic again." Bill paused ever so dramatically as his eyes bore into Aaron's soul. "But then, I do know better, don't I?"

Aaron grabbed the parchment back from the Defense professor rather roughly, his mood quickly souring.

"I have been thinking about it, yes, but you're giving me plenty of reasons to continue my abstination of magic."

"Whoa! Sorry I touched a nerve there," Bill said genuinely.

The two were silent for the next few minutes while waiting for the food. As it appeaered, Aaron mumbled out a quick appology then stuffed his mouth with a rather large chicken leg.

Bill caught it and smiled in response.

Aaron had to carefully force himself to look away for he was in danger of becoming lost in the rugged man's charming eyes yet again.

Dinner proceeded in typical Hogwarts fashion as the students and faculty ate to their content. Shortly, students began to vacate the Great Hall on their way to whatever evening activities they had planned. As Professor Weasley stood, Aaron caught his arm gently.

"I've been doing some serious thinking lately about magic. I feel that in order for me to give Kim the education he can get in the magical arts, I should know more about what there is to learn. Now I have not yet decided that I wish to become a fully trained wizard, but I should at least know the basics," Aaron paused but then quickly added, "For Kim's sake, of course."

"Naturally," Bill said, placating the pride Aaron was putting forth, "Not that you would need it, but is there anything I can do to help?"

"Well, I am learning things along with Kim in his tutoring sessions with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, but I believe I would benefit more by having an added perspective. I was wondering, as long as it didn't intrude on your time, if you would be willing to work with me as well."

Bill's heart raced but he kept his face calm and collected, and replied in the oddly formal manner in which they were both speaking. "I would be glad to work with you. My schedule this week is quite full but I should be able to arrange a regular time to meet after this week."

"That would be agreeable, Professor."

Bill departed and Aaron soon went his own way to the evenings activites.

* * *

Fred watched his older brother and the translator as they ate. Obviously there was some serious tension going on between them and not just the mild hostility that Mr. Devlin was currently conveying. Both he and George had been carefully watching Aaron and Bill, especially their interaction with each other. By themselves, they appeared to be normal everyday wizards, but together it was more a game of cat and mouse. The trouble was, both were playing the part of the mouse.

But the twins knew they had to be very careful. Though they were probably right about Bill and Aaron, the chance that they could be wrong could make things disasterous if they wre to proceed with their planned interference. They decided to watch them both even further, suppressing their natural desire to act. Patience was not a foreign concept to them but it was a difficult one.

But Fred couldn't help but get a devious grin on his face as he thought of their secret weapon. So devious a grin that the few housemates of his that saw it cringed slightly. They knew the look on that face.

* * *

After a week of politely avoiding Harry, Simon decided that he was just being silly and had made it a point to sit with him and his two friends the next chance he got. Unforunately, the same day that he made this descision, he got his response from Dumbledore by owl. The spotted Tawny swooped down expertly that Saturday morning through the ordered chaos that was the morning mail delivery. It dropped its letter perfectly into Simon's hands.

Simon read his name on the front and the dramatic looped handwirting in emerald green looked remarkably official. The hogwarts seal on the back confirmed it. This was his review letter. The letter that would forever seal his fate at Hogwarts. He almost didn't open it.

"Oh go on, Simon," said Heather Marple, a Ravenclaw fourth year who had taken a mild liking to Simon, "The worst it can be is they put you into second year. Everyone knows your the smartest person in the school."

"Smartest, maybe, but that doesn't make up for experience."

Simon gulped as he carefully broke the wax seal and opened the envelope. He pulled out the letter and unfolded it. A slow smile creeped across his face and by the time he was done reading it, he had a full faced grin of joy.

"Let's have it then!"

Heather grabbed the letter and Simon was to happy to protest. She began to read it to the other students who were also paying attention.

"Dear Mr. Bergstead, We are pleased to inform you that you have performed remarkably well on your placement exams. After confering with your professors and head of household, it has been decided that you will be graduated up to fourth year beginning this Monday. Enclosed is your new schedule.

"You will note that you have two extra classes after dinner each evening and three morning classes on Saturdays. These classes will be private tutoring sessions with you and your professors to review years one through three of the standard cirriculum. Attendance is mandatory, though special dispensation may be given with adequate notice and legitimate reasoning.

"You must also maintain an adequate grade average or we will be forced to review and repeal this decision. I trust that you will be able to do so with relative ease, but in all fairness, the warning must be given.

"Please meet with me in my office after breakfast where we will discuss arrangements for you to purchase your new textbooks. And lastly, accept my congratulations and I wish you good luck. Signed Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster"

"Way to go, Simon!" said a housemate whom Simon had yet to meet properly.

Several other housemates also gave their congratulations. Simon looked up to the head table and noticed that his little gathering had gained the attention of the Headmaster and Professor McGonagall. He smiled at them to convey his thanks and was responded to in kind by both Professors. Then he turned to see that several Gryffindors were also congratulating him, Harry included.

"Great job, Simon." Harry said warmly.

"Thanks, Harry," Simon felt himself going a little flush, but it didn't worry him. If anyone noticed, they'd assume he was just embarrased with all the attention he was getting, which was mostly the truth.

Heather chose that moment to congratulate Simon in a more personal way.

"This is wonderful!" she squealed, "Now we'll have the same classes and can spend more time together."

She then leaned in close and gave him a quick but impressive kiss on the cheek, VERY close to Simon's lips. The Ravenclaws and the few Gryffindors who noticed gave a few cat calls. Simon almost stopped breathing and his face turned as red as the Weasley hair. Harry's smile faltered but then reappeared as if nothing happened. Aside from Simon, only Ron and Hermione noticed anything.

Simon felt his chest tighten and excused himself quickly to get some air.

The next thing Simon knew he was down by the lake breathing heavily and trying not to hyperventilate. Hagrid, who had skipped breakfast to tend to his garden, soon wandered up to the boy.

"All right there, Simon?" he asked with concern.

Simon took a few slow breaths to try and calm himself down. "I should... be fine... in a minute... Thanks."

"Well as long as yeh don' keel over on us now. Wouldna do at all now would it?" Hagrid said jovially as he watched Simon's breathing slowly return to normal.

"No it wouldn't." Simon smiled at the half-giant's concern.

"So wha's the cause of all this commotion?"

Rather than try to answer, Simon just handed him the letter from Dumbledore.

Hagrid read it and when he was finished he was beaming.

"Well no wonder yer excited. Ain't everyday yeh graduate three years in one day now. 'Ave yeh though' abou' what electives yeh want to take?"

Simon nodded, his breathing now at a more natural rate. "Arithmancy and Ancient Runes."

"Not my class?" Hagrid asked, pretending to be hurt.

"Sorry Hagrid, but I have enough trouble dealing with the human race let alone other creatures of the world."

"Well you'll be missing out, I promise yeh. You'd best be off to Dumbledore's office now. Don' wanna be keepin him waiting."

"Thanks, Hagrid."

"Oh well I didna do a thing. Don' know what you're thank'n me for."

"Just for being you, Hagrid." Simon smiled and gave Hagrid a hug.

The half-giant blushed as his newest favorite student hugged him. He watched the boy jog off with a light heart. "That boy'll break hearts, he will."

* * *

Harry nearly fainted when he saw Heather Marple kiss Simon. He quickly recovered but his smile was no longer genuine. He was happy for Simon's achievement, but after seeing the boy who had stolen his heart get kissed by someone else, a girl no less, Harry just couldn't bring himself to feel anything positive.

He wasn't angry with Simon. He wasn't even angry with Heather. The girl had a reputation of being rather flirtatious. But despite not being angry with either one of them, Harry couldn't bring himself to follow Simon outside even though he knew that Simon was suffering from a mild panic attack.

Instead, he just sat back down at the Gryffindor table and picked at the remains of his breakfast. Hermione and Ron also sat back down, neither one really knowing what to say especially in the midst of the semi-crowded Great Hall. After eating only a few more bites Harry just pushed his plate away.

"I need some air," he said walking away from his two friends. Ron made to go after him but Hermione just held him back.

"I think he wants to be alone," she said softly."

"He can't actually believe that Simon likes Heather?" Ron asked very quietly.

"I'm sure he doesn't really, but Harry tends to react before thinking when it comes to matters of the heart. Give him some time to think on it and I'm sure he'll realize that.

* * *

Harry sat on the edge of the lake watching the giant squid frolick in the morning sun thinking about Simon. He didn't know why he felt like crying, for Simon had made no promises to him. He also knew that Simon was just as surprised as he that Heather had kissed him, and probably more so. Yet Harry still felt a dull ache in his chest, similar to the one he felt when he thought about Cedric.

Harry became so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice that an hour had gone by. Nor did he notice that Simon was standing a few feet away, trying to build up the nerve to talk to him.

After a good five minutes of hand wringing, Simon finally managed to clear his throat, getting Harry's attention. Harry tensed immidiately at the shock but mastered his instinct to snap his head around. Instead, he slowly looked over to Simon.

"Simon," Harry managed a smile, "How'd your meeting with Dumbledore go?"

Simon blushed slightly. The meeting consisted mostly of being fawned over by his mother. The headmaster had apparently owled them the results the morning before and had arranged for them to visit. They had also brought all his supplies needed for his new subjects.

"Dumbledore invited my parents up to congratulate me," Simon said with a sheepish smile, "My mother instantly went into parental overdrive. I swear my going away for school is harder on her than it is me."

Harry frowned, "Why aren't you still with them?"

Simon sat down next to his friend. "They've been planning to visit my uncle for some time and their plane leaves this afternoon. It was only thanks to floo powder that they were able to visit at all."

Harry nodded, not really knowing what else to say.

Simon wrung his hands for another minute or so before he could speak again.

"I didn't realize Heather was going to kiss me," he said quickly and quietly.

Harry had to think of something to say that wouldn't sound hostile. "She's quite friendly. Hugs practically everyone." He hoped his words didn't sound mean. Heather was very a friendly person.

"I'm sure she was just very happy for me." Simon reasoned weakly. What Harry didn't know was that Heather had made her intentions very clear not two weeks into the term. Simon had done his best to disuade her from her mission, but she would have none of that, and had only let him alone because of his impending placement exam. Once the test was over, she was all over him every time their schedules would allow.

Now that he was going to be in the same year as her, Simon knew that she would essentially attatch herself to him for every class they had. He secretly thanked God that Dumbledore and the other professor's required remedial classes. As it was, it would probably be the only time he would be able to spend away from her.

"So you're a fourth year now," Harry said, "I thought you would have made fifth easily. You're certainly smart enough."

Simon shook his head. "I'm smart but there's only so much one can learn in a year. I have to literally make up the first three years I missed. As it is, I'm wondering if I didn't take on more than I can handle. I know I'm going to be very busy. Busier than even University.

"This will be my last fully free weekend. I am going to try and enjoy it as much as possible."

"What do you have planned?"

"Absolutely nothing," Simon said as he threw Harry a very uncharacteristic plotting grin, "And I'm savoring the emptiness as if it were the nectar of the gods. Pure Ambrosia!"

Harry blinked twice as Simon's startling attitude slowly sank in.

"You're scaring me, Simon."

"Oh! Well... I was just... I didn't mean to." Simon's face lost all its devilishness instantly.

"Simon, I was joking," Harry quickly realized his error, "It's just I never saw you let yourself cut loose like that. You're usually so serious."

Simon blushed with embarassment and he looked away as if to hide it.

"God, I'm such a moron," he whispered to himself.

"You are not a moron, Simon." Harry admonished. He wanted to add that maybe he was a little clueless, but decided against it.

"Harry, I appreciate your defense of my mental capabilites but let's face facts: I'm not very socially adept."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean you should beat yourself up about it. Nor does it mean you should feel sorry for yourself."

"Well then what should I do?" Simon asked in frustration.

"I don't know, exactly," Harry shrugged, "Just don't worry about it, I guess."

"Easier said than done, Harry," Simon replied dryly.

"Maybe, but it's got to be better than the alternaitve."

"And that is?"

"Oh I can think of a number of things. A heart attack, an ulcer, psoriasis."

Simon let loose an undignified snort of laughter but cut it short.

"Harry, that's horrible!" he said trying to suppress a grin.

"But it's true!" Harry protested mockingly, "Just ask my Aunt Petunia."

Simon's grin disappeared immediately at the mention of Harry's aunt. Harry also stopped smiling. There was a very akward silence beteen them and unlike the previous time they were alone at the lake, it was not a comfortable one.

Harry finally gave a weak smile.

"Sorry. I guess I still need to get used to the idea of them being dead."

Simon studied Harry for a momnet.

"Harry," he asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Harry nodded a little too quickly but Simon let it go, sensing that pushing now would just upset him more. Instead he just smiled.

"Good, cause if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to do absolutely nothing with you, Ron and Hermione."

The look of astonishment on Harry's face forced Simon to break out in a healthy laugh. After a minute, Harry recalled the first part of their conversation.

"Why you cheeky git!" he grabbed Simon and ground his nuckles into the top of his head.

"Mercy! Mercy!" Simon yelled out amidst laughs.

"Merci? Well since you're thanking me..." Harry gave Simon another "noogie"

"I give!" Simon finally called out.

Harry released Simon's neck but left his arm around the other boy's shoulders. The silence that followed was far from uncomfortable for either of them, especially as they were both looking out onto the lake rather than into each other's eyes. The silence didn't last however.

"I knew it!" Malfoy yelled excitedly to Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, "Potter's a flaming poof!

Harry and Simon separated from each other quickly. Simon tried to hide his face in shame but Harry thought nothing of hiding. Instead he was going for his wand but Malfoy already had a solid aim on his nemesis.

"LACERITUS!" he shouted.

The spell was well aimed, and would have hit Harry square in the chest had his seeker reflexes failed him. But Harry could not dodge completely and was struck on his wand arm as he dived away from Simon while pushing him out of the line of fire. As if he were struck by a sword, the arm of his jumper split and ripped. Blood flowed freely out of the deep cut now in his arm.

Harry gasped in pain and could no longer hold onto his wand in his right hand, but his previous experiences with Voldemort had somewhat prepared him for dueling and by the time his right hand had let go of the wand, he had snatched it up with his left hand. Unfortunately it cost him time and he was only able to cast a shielding spell to block another Laceration spell.

"PROTEGO!" he cried out.

Just as Malfoy's spell was about to hit him, Harry's shield spell sparked into existence. The clash of spell against spell created a flash of light, temporarily blinding the duelers and the three spectators. Harry expected this and let fly another spell as soon as the first two clashed. Unfortunately his spell never connected.

"EXPELIARMUS!" Professor Snape's voice rang out unpleasantly. Harry's wand flew out of his hand as if it had been coated in grease. When everyone's eyes adjusted, they all stared at the very angry potions professor. There were several wands in his hands including Harry's.

Harry couldn't believe how angry Snape looked. He shuddered in mild fear of what the man might do. The Slytherin's were also rather nervous looking as Snape had glared at each of them in turn.

"Mr. Bergstead," his voice was low but full of quelled rage, "Please escort Mr. Potter up to the hospital wing. Mr. Malfoy, you and Misters Crabbe and Goyle will report to my office immediately. No you may not have your wands back until I've discussed this with the Headmaster." Snape cut Crabbe's question off before he could even ask it.

No one dared argue with the enraged professor. The three Slytherins walked as swiftly as they could and still retain their dignity. Simon had Harry apply pressure to his wound and walked him up to the hospital wing. By the time they got there, Harry had lost enough blood to become rather woozy.

Madame Pomfrey swooped in like a vulture and immedately set to repair his latest injury, shooing Simon away briskly. Not knowing what use he could be hanging around the hospital wing, the young Ravenclaw decided that telling Hermione and Ron what happened would be the best thing to do, so he left to find them.

* * *

The door slammed open and all three Slytherin students jumped. Snape held out Crabbe and Goyle's wands.

"Detention tonight and tomorrow with Filch. Leave now."

The two goons quickly grabbed their wands and escaped while they could, wisely not giving a second thought to their master Draco Malfoy's fate. Snape closed the door gently behind them.

In the blink of an eye, Snape circled and closed the distance between him and Draco. His right hand flew and hit Draco hard enough across his face to send him spiraling.

**"YOU FOOLISH BOY!"** the professor hissed, "Do you have any concept of what you have done?"

Draco picked himself up off the floor. Already the left side of his face was turning an ugly purple. The red that showed was all over in his own barely contained rage and embarrasment.

"I did what Voldemort is too incompetent to do," the boy spat back, "And what you're afraid to do."

Draco found himself on the floor again as the livid potions professor slapped him again, this time on the other cheek.

He got up more slowly and much more wary. The professor rarely ever used physical force on Draco, and the few times that he did even Draco had to agree were well deserved. But never had his mentor struck him more than once, and certainly never that hard. The pain was so much that he couldn't keep the tears from his eyes, but he didn't sob or blubber.

Professor Snape had already realized that he had gone just past "too far" and took a step back away from Draco, but his anger would not just let this go. After a minute of staring at each other, Snape finally motioned for his pupil to take the guest's chair while he sat in his own.

"When you sought me out last summer," he said, his voice still very angry but full of sadness as well, "You told me you wanted to escape the corruption of Voldemort. Have you changed your mind then?"

"He has nothing to do with this," Draco repied, his voice trembling slightly, out of anger or fear Snape could not discern, especially as the boy was exhibiting both. "This was personal."

"_Personal_!" Snape hissed back, "You tried to commit murder, Draco, murder. What was so _personal_ that you would make yourself no better than Voldemort?"

"That's rich coming from a Death Eater." Draco threw back.

Snape didn't even blink, "When did I ever claim to be a better man than him? Besides, this isn't about me, Draco, this is about you and how you nearly brought yourself down to our level. Now answer my question."

Draco fought with himself. He didn't want to answer the professor because he knew his answer would seem childish, yet Professor Snape was probably the only person who ever understood Draco, even better than Draco understood himself sometimes. That was one of the reasons why he never tried to hide any tears from him. Why he didn't hid the tears from him now.

"He said he was tired of playing this game," he said softly. The hard look in his eyes told Snape the boy was far from feeling sorry for his actions. "So I told him no more games. 'No more games' I said. I warned him! But he didn't listen."

The blood drained from Snape's face as he saw the wild look in Draco's eyes. The boy had always kept his cool even under the most tremendous situations, but he was clearly showing derangement now. Something had happened to him. Something horrid and unthinkable. The boy had been broken.

"My God, Draco, what did they do to you?"


	13. Spy Games

Fan fiction: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental.

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned.

Author's Notes: Left you hangin' off a cliff, didn't I? Well it was either that or have you wait another three or four months for the chapter. Instead you only wait three or four months more for this chapter.

"For the hundredth time, he wore a mask and it was dark," Eric told the detective. "I wish I could tell you more but the fact of the matter is I can't. All I know is that I'm alive and that's all that matters to me."

"Very well," the police detective replied sadly, "We'll do our best but to be honest sir, without more to go on I doubt we will be able to capture your assailant."

"I understand, detective. Thank you."

The policemen who were questioning Eric left his hospital room without another word. Eric furrowed his brow in frustration. They had asked him far too many questions. Questions he had to think up lies for on the spot. Thankfully, the police didn't dig to much into his false identity. He had little time to put much background into it and any in depth investigation would reveal that.

At least he was being released today. If he had to stay one more day in this god forsaken hospital he was bound to kill someone. The only good thing about his near month long hiatus was it gave him time to think about the fight that put him there in the first place.

His assailant was a wizard. At the time he didn't think of it because all the wizards were thought dead, but everything fit into place. The wand, the spell, everything. He remembered everything he learned as a Knight of Merlin's Keep. He would have to do some research to refresh that memory, but he knew the answers were there.

This also meant that the boy who Prometheus had given the key was also a wizard. Their auras were far to similar. If he couldn't find his assailant, then he would look for the boy. The boy may have the answers he needed.

Eric carefully finished dressing in what remained of his clothes. His shirt was completely ruined as the surgeons had to cut it off him to operate but the hospital graciously allowed him to keep the gown he wore during his stay. He grimaced as he tucked the gown into his black denims. Even though he could not use the arm that had been shot, moving and stretching with the other arm sent spike of pain throughout his body.

Thankfully he would not have to deal with the pain much longer. His cabal's healer would see to the wound and by evening it would almost be as if he had never been shot. Then he would begin his search in earnest for the boy.

* * *

Tracking down the mysterious man wasn't hard. After all, how often do people in Surrey get shot. The hard part was observing him, and for that, Darrin had to use practically every trick he knew. 

The man's name according to the hospital was Charles Uesef Farley. Darrin suspected that this was a false name. He remembered he'd heard a very similar name from an old business associate from the states. Something to do with insulting the government or other, but that was neither here nor there.

Darrin was reluctant to get too close to the man as he had some sort of power. The man wasn't a wizard in the classic sense, but the fact that he had mostly repelled his Vermillious spell meant he had some sort of magic shield. Plus the fact that he had Apparated without a wand.

All these things ran through Darrin's head as he tried to figure out what manner of being this 'Charles' was. Certainly nothing Darrin had come across before. He suspected that Dumbledore knew something, but as usual the old codger was being quite elusive. But Darrin was used to that.

The blond Irishman watched as the mystery man was discharged. He followed as close as he could but it was difficult because the streets were full with pedestrians. The mystery man turned the corner and left Darrin's sight for only a few seconds, but it apparently was enough for him to disappear entirely because he was no where to be seen.

Darrin cursed his luck and continued cautiously on his way, finding a secluded spot for him to pull his own disappearing act. He arrived safely in his own apartment with a crack. Thankful once again for having the walls sound-proofed, he hastened to his desk to write Bill an update. Something in the back of his mind told him there was no time to lose.

* * *

The sanctum was decorated with ornate tapestries, figurines and furniture. When one walked in it was if they were transported back a thousand years. The walls were of simple stone and mortar and the stained glass windows were authentic and beautiful. 

Even a man as cold as Eric couldn't help but be inspired by the ancient glory of the architecture. And inspired he was as he appeared with a pop.

Several heads turned to the noise and after satisfying that it was no one unwelcome turned away again. All but one.

"You're late," rumbled a deep bass voice. The man behind the most ornate and well-aged desk stood as he spoke. He was an imposing man, tall and broad shouldered. The expensive suit that he wore was tailored just tight enough to show that his size was not a trick of the light.

Eric almost laughed. The other man was physically strong and well-abled and he respected that, but he lacked Eric's more unique talents and training. Both knew who would win if they fought. However, the man _was_ their leader and it would not do to make him lose face in front of the others, especially as none of them liked or respected Eric all that much.

And the unfortunate fact was that Eric needed this group to not only find Merlin's Keep, but deal with the knights as well.

Eric walked into the main atrium with a forced smile.

"Traffic was impossible," He replied sardonically, "I was the unfortunate victim of road rage."

The leader remained silent, just glaring his rich brown eyes into Eric. Eric stared back just as intensely. The other man finally relented.

"So what happened?"

"I was shot, Nostramus. I would've thought you'd known that especially since it was all over the Surrey newspapers."

"My faith in your abilities is faltering, Lear. What you're basically telling me is that you let someone get the drop on you."

Eric curled his lip in restrained disgust as he walked over to a young woman reading an old book. "Truth be told _I_ had the drop on him, however skilled as I am, even I have to lose at some point. Fate was not my friend that night and at the risk of sounding melodramatic I am truly lucky to be alive."

He snapped his fingers at the woman impatiently. She looked up, annoyed at his interrupting her reading. After an intense stare at his wound she went back to hear reading. Eric sighed as he stripped his shirt and bandages. There was only a faint scar where the bullet had penetrated his skin.

"Thank you, my dear, your talents are almost remarkable."

Her only response was a rather profane sounding comment in a language he could not understand.

"Did you get the key?" Nostramus asked, getting impatient himself.

"No," Eric replied as he walked up a small spiral staircase, "The wizard who shot me had recovered it first. I was following him but due to an unfortunate set of circumstances I was discovered. We fought and the short of it is, he won."

He disappeared behind a heavy curtain for a moment despite just having gotten the entire groups attention and soon returned with a new black t-shirt in hand. Eric put it on as he climbed back down the stairs.

"However," the former Knight continued before Nostramus or anyone else could comment, "Now that I know what he is, I might still be able to find the key. This wizard had an aura not too dissimilar from our own. Now that I understand it better, I believe I may have a lead. The boy who had the key also had an aura similar to the wizard's. Too similar not to be connected. If he is a wizard then he probably goes to a wizarding school."

"You speak of the ancient school supposedly built by the founders of the Knights?" The healer spoke, "That's as preposterous as saying wizards still live. They were all wiped out during the Inquisition."

"And that my dear is as preposterous as saying the moon is made of blue cheese. I admit it's difficult to believe but the facts speak for themselves. The man who had defeated me used a wand and invoked his powers with words. No psychic power we've ever recorded manifests itself as a red beam. Not a flame mind you, a red beam. Like a laser only slightly more fluidic.

"There is no doubt this man was a wizard. It's is my contention that the boy is also a wizard. Prometheus gave him the key before he died. He would not have done so unless he felt the boy were trustworthy. I'd like to know what would have given him that idea."

"But you said this other wizard has the key," said a squat man in the back of the room. "What use is the boy to us then?"

"The wizard that I fought knew the key was there," Eric explained as he searched through the tall bookshelves. "The boy had been rescued by two men the morning before the fire. No one else knew the key was there so the boy must have told him about it. When we find the boy, we find the man who has the key. Now stop wasting my time with pointless questions and help me find the school."

The others looked to Nostramus for his lead. With his nod, they began their search for an ancient school of witchcraft and wizardry.

* * *

"This is absurd, Professor Dumbledore! Why are we even discussing this?" Minerva's voice was hard but quiet, "The rules are clear; Draco Malfoy must be expelled!" 

"Unacceptable!" Professor Snape hissed back, barley controlling his temper. "If it was one of your precious Griffyndors-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence, Severus Snape!" Professor McGonogall cut him off with her well practiced voice of command. "This isn't some minor indiscretion. The boy tried to kill Harry Potter. You even told us yourself he didn't see it as a game. If it _were_ a Gryffindor I would be demanding the same punishment and you damn well know it!"

Snape curled his upper lip in sheer disgust but didn't reply. If Minerva McGonogall was angry enough to swear then she was angry enough to cast a spell out of spite. Snape was a powerfully skilled wizard in his own right but he was no match against her Transfiguration. If she hurled a changing spell at him and hit, even Dumbledore would have some difficulty countering it.

"Professor Snape did have a point however, Professor McGonagall," the Headmaster interrupted gently, "It is clear that Draco is not entirely himself and considering what little he revealed to Professor Snape it is not surprising."

"All the more reason to keep him away from the other students," she replied, seemingly regaining her composure, "I agree that the boy needs help and that Azkaban is not in his best interest, but his interests alone should not dictate our actions. It is prudent that we consider the entire student body in this matter and with that, there is no room for argument. Draco Malfoy must leave Hogwarts."

Professor Sprout nodded her agreement most solemnly. Professor Flitwck gave no indication of agreeing or disagreeing.

"You would send him back to the snake's den, Minerva?" Snape's voice went soft and calm, "Azkaban would be a reward by comparison. I dare say I don't know who makes me more ill, Voldemort or Lucius Malfoy."

"What would you have me do, Severus?" she replied, much calmer than before but no less impassioned, "The good of the many must outweigh the good of the one."

Before Snape could come up with an answer, a large, white snowy owl soared through the window and landed on Dumbledore's desk with grace. Fwakes ruffled his feathers and chirped in mild annoyance at this new bird's intrusion into his space. Dumbledore removed the letter from the owl and gave it a nod.

"Thank you, Haley. There are some owl treats on the shelf." The Headmaster pointed to a shelf on the opposite wall as Fawkes' perch. He set the letter aside to continue his conversation with the Heads of Households.

"We must come up with a short term solution-Ouch!"

Haley was apparently not satisfied that the old professor had not read the letter and screeched softly his disappointment. Fawkes ruffled his feathers some more and his annoyed chirping started to carry a harder edge.

Dumbledore sighed, "I realize it is important, Haley," he admonished the owl,"but a student's life is at stake. Your letter _will_ wait. You are welcome to stay in the school owlery and when I am ready to send a response, I will look for you there."

The owl flew off, Fawkes snapping at the air just behind him as he flew out the window. The other professors were used to Dumbledore's eccentricities but admonishing an owl as if it were human was stretching it a bit, even for him. The headmaster just ignored them and continued as if it had never happened.

"As I was saying, we must come up with a short term solution. Both of you have made valid arguments. Were it not for his current familial situation I must admit that I would be inclined to expel Mr. Malfoy immediately and ultimately, that will likely happen, but Professor Snape is correct; We cannot abandon him to his father." He looked at Minerva right in the eye, "I learned _that_ lesson this summer."

Minerva scowled at being rebuked but it was clear that her mind had been swayed and for the moment she would relent. Professor Sprout looked disagreeable but said nothing, knowing it would be futile.

It was at this point that Professor Flitwick chose to speak.

"Perhaps an in-house suspension?"

The other professors looked at him as if he were speaking a foreign language. He just sighed.

"I overheard one of my muggle-born students explain it once. Her brother goes to a muggle boarding school. When a student breaks one of their more serious rules but it does not warrant expulsion, they separate the student from the rest of the school. Effectively he is imprisoned but he still gets his education via a tutor."

"All we would need to do is put him in a furnished room and have one of the house elves perform a charm that will prevent only him from leaving. Draco is excellent in charms but he is definitely not up to disenchanting a house elf's spell. We then set up a set of mirrors with viewing charms so he can still attend classes. At the end of the day we re-collect his wand to discourage him from trying to escape."

"That hardly seems appropriate." Sprout finally voiced her opinion, "What happens if another student crosses the line? If we do this for Draco now we will have set a very dangerous precedent."

"But the circumstances are quite extreme in this case, Professor Sprout," Dumbledore replied, "We know that Draco has suffered some horrific mental abuse over the summer and it would be disastrous if he were to return to that. I believe in giving everyone a second chance. This will be Draco's."

"We will do as you suggest, Professor Flitwick. If you would please arrange for the charms, I will have Mr. Filch prepare quarters in the guest wing. Now is there anything else?"

The headmaster's question was completely rhetorical and all four professors knew it. They dismissed themselves orderly yet quickly, Snape rushing out far ahead of McGonagall.

When he was finally alone, Dumbledore opened the letter that Haley had delivered. He read Darrin's report and sensed the same urgency but without more on who this person was or where he came from there was little he could do about it.

What really troubled Dumbledore is that the description of the man's powers fit the legends, but to think that a Knight had gone rogue was disconcerting to say the least. Albus had only met one of them and that was immediately after his fight with Grindelwald.

He felt obligated to explain who he was to the beautiful young woman though he couldn't say why. Unfortunately he did not have enough time to learn more about her. Though Grindelwald was dead, his army wasn't and they would soon converge on their position. After modifying the survivors memories he left them, giving the woman nothing more than directions that would lead her to a safe place for the night. Beyond that they were on their own.

Albus often wondered what had happened to her after that night, but if she was still alive then she was very good at hiding, for even with all his resources Albus could not find even a hint of her existence.

The old professor brought himself out of the past and began once again concentrating on the present. The Knights were looking for the key, of that he was certain, but was this one with them, or on his own? He wanted this man to be a rogue, for if he was not then the Knights may very well have become corrupted and that was truly frightening.

Especially as this one not only had significant training, but was powerful enough to block most of Darrin's spell. According to legend, no Knight should have ever been that powerful. If a corrupted order had become that powerful, the damage they would do would be horrific.

Albus believed that wizards still had the advantage but it would not be for long and if it did come to a conflict, it would not be easy in the least.

And on top of that he had Draco Malfoy to deal with. Why now?

* * *

Darrin floated though the shadows of downtown Surrey. Dumbledore's response was less than satisfying. The old dingbat had absolutely no clue on how to deal with this situation or so Darrin thought. The headmaster had thanked him for his information and said he would be in touch if he needed Darrin's services again. 

That was just unacceptable to Darrin, so now here he was back in Surrey in the middle of the night attempting to track down this foe. Darrin had a few tricks up his sleeve that even the great Albus Dumbledore couldn't fathom.

Darrin finally reached the spot where this Charles had disappeared. He pulled out his wand and cast Ocular Revelo once again. As he looked around he could see the fluctuations of energy swirling around the streets and buildings.

The lamps were doubly bright as he could not only see the light but the heat. He noticed the electricity running through the wires far above his head and swore he could feel the hum of the current running through his own body.

He searched the immediate area and found what he was looking for. There was a rift of energy where this Charles disappeared. It was very faint and Darrin was surprised that it had lasted this long. Apparating left a distinct wake of magical energy for a short time and a wizard skilled in magical tracking could use that to help pinpoint the destination point, or in the case of Disapparating, the originating point.

But those fluctuations usually cleared up after three or four hours. This one had lasted a good six hours and though it was nearly gone, would probably last for another half hour or so.

The Irishman looked around quickly to make sure he was alone and not being watched. Then as he cast a tracking spell on the rift of energy, he stepped into it. It felt as if he were Apparating only he knew he had never left Surrey. But the destination, though precisely unfamiliar, was in a vicinity he knew quite well.

"The man's in London," he said softly to himself.

Darrin smirked viciously. He had half a mind to just Apparate directly there and give this foe a little surprise but he stayed him self. His prey was skilled and experienced and had powers that Darrin did not fully comprehend. To Apparate blindly into what could very well be his enemy's haven would just get himself hurt.

Instead, he relaxed and took in all the sensations of the destination. He had an idea of the general location in London. Once there he could use some other methods of tracking down his quarry. Safer methods.

Darrin released the tracking spell and with a wave of his wand dissipated the remaining energy of his foe's departure. With a pop, He disappeared.

* * *

"We have a problem!" the squat man had woken the rest of the cabal suddenly in the middle of the night. "Some one has somehow managed to bypass my scrying wards." 

"What do you mean 'bypassed'?" Nostramus demanded angrily.

The squat man brushed his thinning brown hair from his face. "I mean someone knows where we are. It was as if my ward didn't even exist for him."

Nostramus scowled as he looked at Eric. "The wizard?"

Yawning, Eric nodded. "Their magic works different from our psychic abilities though they're close enough to affect each other in some instances. What I don't understand is how he could have found us to scry us."

"Your little disappearing trick, no doubt," the red headed healer seethed, "He _tracked_ you, Lear, and your foolishness led him straight to us."

"Impossible!"

"**IDIOT!**" her slap nearly sent him reeling, "You said yourself their powers are different from ours. That means their perceptions are different. Your ignorance has put us in danger!"

Eric's face became red with anger, his voice barely controlled but quiet, "I stand corrected."

"Enough!" Nostramus interjected before the two became violent. "What's done is done. What we need to do now is prepare to evacuate. Aesop, you and Friga will take the elder section of the library. I will take care of everything else. If he comes alone, we can try and take him. If he brings friends we scatter and rendezvous at the safe house. Lear, since you brought this upon us you can go and make sure the coast is clear."

Too angry to argue, Eric just returned to his quarters to dress for action.

* * *

Darrin slowed his motorcycle, thankful for the extra powerful silencing charm he enchanted the bike with. He was now in the area he sensed with the tracking spell. It wasn't too hard to find the right building. With his revealing spell cast it stood out like the sun. 

He stopped his ride and continued cautiously on foot. The shadows enveloped him as if he were nothing more than a shadow himself. When he was about one hundred feet from the building he noticed movement. The man was 'invisible' again, but Darrin could see him with his spell active.

The other man had not yet seen him, so Darrin took the initiative and cast stupefy. He fell limply to the ground and Darrin closed the distance between them hurriedly.

Satisfied that the man was good and unconscious, Darrin flicked his wand and ropes shot out, tying the prone figure. He was tempted to revive the man, but Darrin knew that would be foolhardy as the man still had his telekinetic powers. Instead he decided to take him back to Dumbledore t deal with.

"Impressive." Darrin let go of the unconscious body and his wand was almost instantly aimed at the red-haired young woman. "But then again, I am beginning to think his abilities are vastly overstated."

Darrin kept his wand pointed strait at her. Though she was quite beautiful and had curves in all the right places, Darrin knew well how dangerous women could be.

"Haven't had the pleasure," he said carefully.

"Who I am is not nearly as interesting as who you are." She said seductively, "Or should I say what. When that buffoon told me about you I couldn't believe it, but Wizards do exist. How exciting."

"I'm sure," he replied dryly, "And do you have similar abilities to this 'buffoon'?"

"I have some," she admitted with a smile, "But nothing that would be considered combat worthy, I assure you."

"I guess it would depend on your point of view," Darrin said carefully, glancing around to make sure he was not about to be ambushed.

The red headed woman laughed.

"You soldier boys are all alike. Always looking for the tactical advantage in the most mundane things. I suppose paranoia is a survival trait but frankly I'd rather enjoy myself. So what brings you to our little haven? Surely now that you have the artifact you do not need anything from us?"

Darrin thought about the item that he had given to Bill to bring to Hogwarts. "Well I wouldn't if this gentleman hadn't made such an issue out of it. But he obviously considers it valuable enough to get violent over so that tells me there's a hell of a lot more going on than I first thought."

The red head smiled even more. "I know who has the Key!" she yelled out, "And Aesop knows the location!"

Darrin spun around and noticed a squat man next to his motorcycle holding Dumbledore's most recent letter to him. He swung his wand around to stun the man but found himself thrown aside. When he landed he noticed that the stupefied man was now awake and though he was still bound by the ropes his telekinesis was not.

"Leave him! We have what we need," A third man walked out of the building, "Let him deal with the police for arson."

No sooner did the man finish his statement than the building erupt into flames. The conflagration consumed the building and within seconds every inch of the building was aflame.

The squat man quickly ran to an auto nearby. The woman and third man joined him. Darrin was about to cast a spell at them when the third man winked at him. Parts of him instantly caught fire and Darrin had no time to douse them with any magic. He quickly rolled around to extinguish the flames and when they were put out he noticed that the only one left was the telekinetic, still bound but watching him smugly."

"You've been most helpful," he said mockingly and with a laugh, disappeared, ropes and all.

Darrin looked at the building continue to burn. There was no way he could stop the fire and repair the damage. Instead he grabbed his wand and ran to his motorcycle. He started the bike and stowed his wand into a hidden compartment, having a bad feeling that the fire department was called beforehand.

His suspicions were confirmed when he was nearly rundown by the engine not two blocks away from the fire. The police car that was following pulled off suddenly and blocked Darrin's path. With a snarl he shut down his bike and held his hands up, waiting to be arrested.

* * *

Darrin swore at himself yet again as he waited in the interrogation room. Things were not going well at all. He had one of his fake IDs on him but the fingerprints they were running would bring up his real identity. An identity that already had a criminal record. 

He knew it was only a matter of time before they would come in and charge him with more than just arson and then his goose was cooked, to chose a moderately appropriate metaphor. What made things worse was that he couldn't contact Bill or Dumbledore to help bail him out. Neither one had any muggle identification.

"Bloody hell!" he hissed to himself just as the door opened.

"That about sums up your predicament, doesn't it Mr. Killroy?" The old detective asked as he dropped a large file onto the desk. He sat down opposite Darrin as his partner shut the door behind them.

Darrin couldn't help but sigh when he heard his real name.

"Oh yes, we matched your prints," he said rifling through the file, "I take it from your reaction that you realize just how much trouble you are in. False identification, perjury, arson and that's just this evening."

"All my parking tickets are paid, thank you," Darrin grumbled.

"And we here at the yard so thank you Mr. Killroy," the detective replied sarcastically, "It's nice to know that some criminals take responsibility for their law breaking, however innocuous. And I must add that's a lovely shade of brown. Who does your hair coloring? My wife would surely love to know."

Darrin just glared at the detective.

"Look Mr. Killroy, I'll make it simple for you. Admit to the arson now and we can bargain down a sentence or you can force this to trial where your previous record will be used to it's fullest extent against you, thus ensuring that you are locked up for a very long time."

"Or," Darrin replied "I can wait until the fire department finishes their examination which will prove I had nothing to do with setting that fire."

"Come now, Mr. Killroy," the detective laughed, "Do you honestly think you will be able to walk? Take a look at yourself. Those burnt clothes of yours are a pretty good give away.

"So's your hair line," Darrin's retort earned a snicker from the detective's partner and a glare from the detective, "Now yeh can either let me speak to my lawyer or let me go but this conversation over."

The detective slammed the file shut as he stood.

"Very well, Mr. Killroy," he said angrily, "I tried to be nice but you are obviously not smart enough to recognize an opportunity when you see it."

The two detectives left the room, the senior slamming the door behind him. Darrin couldn't help but chuckle. He was as good as convicted and there was nothing he could do about it but the man's obvious toupee was just too much.

After a few more minutes, the door opened again. Darrin stood, expecting to be taken back to the holding cell, but the person who entered was not a uniformed officer.

"Please be seated, Mr. Killroy, I don't have much time," he said shutting the door quickly behind him.

"I already told your friends I don't talk without my lawyer.

"Then don't talk, just listen. I know what you are and why you are here. I want to help. I can take care of the records that link you to the arson but you will have to return the favor."

"Yeh must be desperate to try and illicit a..."

"Will you shut up and listen!" the man hissed. Darrin noticed that he seemed genuinely nervous. "I told you I don't have a lot of time. I know you are a wizard. Don't scoff, sir, I have your wand."

Darrin's attention was immediately on him.

"I found it in a secret compartment on your motorcycle. Ingenious. I had to really search for it."

"But how..."

"How I know is irrelevant, the point is you can not stay here. The man who set you up is still at large and we don't know where to find him. We need your help to capture him."

"Who is we?" Darrin asked.

"An ancient order of knights created by the apprentices of Merlin. I can't explain more but I will be glad to do so later on once we've gotten you out of here. Now am I correct in surmising that you can alter a persons memories?"

Darrin was tempted to say nothing more, feeling that this man was trying to trick him, but when the other man pulled out his wand and set it within easy reach, Darrin began to have second thoughts.

"I don't have time to not trust you. I ask that you trust me, otherwise I will not be able to help you and you will go to prison. We both lose if that happens."

Darrin slowly took his wand and pocketed it. "I can modify memories to a limited extent. The deeper the memory the harder it is to change or erase. Do you have a plan?"

"I and another of my order can take care of the records. We can even deal with the officers that arrested and booked you eventually, but the detectives are out of our influence and they are the immediate problem."

"And am I to just walk out the door after I modify their memories?"

"Well..."

"Yeh haven't planned that far," Darrin stated wryly.

"Time was short," The other man said sheepishly.

"Right," Darrin rolled his eyes, "Okay, I can take care of the detectives' memories but you must make absolutely sure that my prints from this evening are destroyed. That's the only thing that is truly damming to me. Everything else is can be chalked up to coincidence."

"But how will you escape?"

"Ever hear of plausible deniability?" Darrin asked. When he got a nod in return he continued, "Then don't ask that question."

* * *

"Friga my dear, you were wonderful!" Nostramus commended the woman sitting next to him in the auto. 

"What about me? I got the location of the school," Aesop asked from the driver's seat.

"Yes, yes Aesop, you performed admirably as well," Nostramus begrudgingly agreed, "At least you will have if the location is correct. Are you sure you can find it?"

"It will be tricky," Aesop nodded as he drove, "The strongest echo was the... thing that delivered it. I believe it was a bird of some sort as the view I get is from the air."

"They have birds deliver their mail?" Friga observed with curiosity.

"Perhaps it saves money on delivery carriers?" Aesop replied

"Foolish man!" Nostramus snarled, "Who cares on _why_ they have birds deliver their mail. The only thing that matters is that we find that school."

Aesop gave a subdued reply, "Yes, Nostramus."

"Lear will no doubt already be at our safe house," Friga noted, "We must hurry. Our wizard friend is a very experienced man. All we have done is delay him."

"You saw his thoughts. Is he as great a threat as Lear lead us to believe?"

"Even greater. That fool Lear let his arrogance get the better of him. This wizard does not know what to make of us but he learns quickly. He can see past Lear's invisibility with a spell and he can teleport much like Lear, though he needs his wand to do so. I could not even begin to tell you the extent of his powers. Ours, though well trained, are still limited to certain aspects. My healing and telepathy, Aesop's Psychometry and shielding and your Pyrokinesis, this wizard can do most of these things and much more.

"And he is not the most skilled of his kind. There are a few names that I was able to catch. Albus Dumbledore, Voldemort and a Harry Potter. If what I sensed was correct, this Harry Potter is the boy Lear was looking for."

"What does the boy matter now?" Aesop interjected, "We know where the key is."

"There is something about this boy that the wizard is in awe of," The red head replied, "I did not have enough time to dig deeper but I feel we should investigate the boy further. He may not be able to help us with opening the Keep but he could prove useful in other areas."

"When we have an exact location we can send in Lear."

"Lear is dangerous. He is not a stable mind," Friga shuddered slightly at remembering her mental scan of him.

"We have no choice. He was once a Knight of the Keep and his knowledge and experience of them is invaluable. I have not played all my cards with him so when the time comes, he will be dealt with."

* * *

When he was well clear of Scotland Yard, Darrin cast a glamour charm on himself changing not only his hair color but some of his facial features. He then cast a repairing spell on his clothes. The knight, as the man called himself, had arranged a meeting with one of his leaders to discuss what exactly was going on. 

Darrin was still half convinced that he was being set up but the man did seem on the level. His wand had been returned to him un-tampered and unharmed, but Darrin was still very cautious.

He made his way to the address given by the self-described knight. It was a quaint pub called 'Merlin's Beard'. Darrin couldn't help but smile as he saw the hanging sign. If only they knew.

He entered and was greeted warmly by the bartender. The patrons looked his way but didn't give him a second glance. As instructed, he sat at the bar and ordered an ale and shepherds's pie. The ale was served immediately and he nursed it while he waited for his meal. After a few minutes another man sat down next to him.

"Some say Merlin created Shepherds's pie," he said.

Darrin was told what his contact would say and was told a counter-sign to verify that he was a friend, but as far as Darrin was concerned this cloak and blade stuff was for the movies.

"Please spare me the spy games, mate," he replied, "I've had a really long day and I don't have time to fiddle with signs and counter-signs all night. Are yeh my contact or not?"

The other man paused for a brief moment before getting up to leave. Darrin reached out and grabbed him.

"Hold up, mate. You wanted my help. The least yeh could do is tell me why I wasted an extra hour and a half here when I could have been out tracking that bloke."

After another brief pause, the man nodded towards a back room. The two meandered back and Darrin soon found himself surrounded by several large men. He instinctively reached for his wand but an old woman's voice caught him before he could draw it completely.

"There will be no need for that, Mr. Killroy," she said. The currently raven-haired man didn't completely draw his wand, but neither did he remove his hand.

"Leave us," she commanded and the others complied without hesitation, "They are protective of me."

It wasn't until all the men had left that Darrin was able to take a good look at the woman. Her face was thin and near skeletal and her white hair was very thin. Darrin would have thought her hideous but she had a regal like quality about her that he couldn't place. It was almost as if she wore her age like a sash of honor. Each year that had deteriorated her body had likewise sharpened mind.

Darrin drudged up what little social etiquette he learned as a son of a pure-blooded wizard. He bowed low, keeping his head down despite his long honed survival instincts telling him to do otherwise. When he rose, the woman was smiling.

"It's nice to know that some of the old ways have not died out," she said, gesturing for Darrin to take a seat.

"To be honest" Darrin replied, sitting in the offered seat, "They almost have. Please forgive my impudence but yeh have me at a severe disadvantage. You know who and more to the point what I am but I know nothing of you, or your... entourage."

"I have gone by several names in my youth, but you may call me Kay."

"Well then Kay, I am Darrin," he extended his hand across the small table and she took it gently.

"Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, I will give you some of the answers you seek," Kay released his hand and poured him some tea, "My entourage as you call it are part of an order that was created by Merlin's four greatest apprentices; I'm sure you know their names."

Darrin nodded.

"They created a realm outside our dimension as we know it. It was dubbed Merlin's Keep and in that realm did they place Excalibur, the sword of Kings. To protect Excalibur, the keep was locked away in space and time. The Key to Merlin's Keep was created so that the keep may one day be opened.

"It is here that our legends become a little fuzzy. One says that only the true king can re-open the keep and only when the time was right to re-create Camelot. Another says that anyone can open the keep if the Key deems them worthy. Truth be told there are several variations of these legends and because our records did not survive the Inquisition we can not separate fact from fiction.

"In any case, we know that my order was created by Merlin himself to protect the Key and the Keep. He called us the Knights of Merlin's Keep. We are not wizards or witches as you know them. We were once completely mundane but through a series of spells, Merlin granted our forefathers certain powers. Limited in aspect but without the constraints of needing a wand. Mundanes know these powers as psychic phenomena."

"I've heard of such powers," Darrin interjected, "But until recently thought them nothing more than parlor tricks."

"And in many cases they are. Like your kind, we Knights are very secretive and do not generally advertise our abilities."

"But what of this man whom I've been tracking? Is he one of your knights?"

Kay leaned back against her seat and sighed, "The man whom you fought is known as Lear and he was once one of our most promising Knights. Unfortunately he has left our fold in both body and spirit. He has been actively searching for the Keep for his own ends. He is well trained as you may have noticed."

"And the others"

Kay frowned, "What others? Lear is acting alone."

Darrin shook his head, "Unless you and I are talking about two entirely different people, no he is most definitely _not_ working alone. There were three others that I saw. One woman and two men."

Kay's face went hard, "You must describe them. Their powers if you saw them.

"One of the men was able to conjure fire with a wink. And not just little fires, I'm talking full blown conflagrations that literally consumed a building in seconds."

"Nostramus. Please continue.

"The other man I believe was named Aesop. The woman I'm not sure about, but I think she may have been able to see me thoughts."

"Oh dear! Hyperion, come quickly!"

The man who had first contacted Darrin barged in, ready to fight Darrin if need be.

"Lear has enlisted the other shunned ones. No wonder the seers could not see past the nexus; that damned Aesop. Hyperion, you must call an emergency meeting immediately."

Hyperion bowed quickly and left without a word.

"Mr. Killroy, this is very important. You said the woman saw your thoughts. What did she see?"

"She said she knew who had the key and that Aesop knew the location. Is she talking about that trinket I found?"

"Yes."

"How far will Lear go to get the key?"

"He would kill _anyone_ who stood in his way."

"I must leave," Darrin stood suddenly, "Hogwarts is warded against many forms of magic but your powers seem to not be affected in the same way. The castle wards may not work against him and he already has a huge lead."

"You say the key is at Hogwarts?" Darrin nodded, "Tilhører, the listener will help you. He is more than he appears to be. Let him help you."

"Who is he?"

The matron shook her head, "You will know him only when he reveals himself. He was instructed to watch and listen and only act if the need arises. He will not deviate from those instructions."

"I hope yeh realize that children's lives are at stake here. If yeh can send help then for God's sake do so!"

"I will do what I can, but I cannot reveal the listener. I wish I could explain more but there is no time. You must hurry!"

Darrin bit back some very choice words at his opinion of the situation, but only because for some unknown reason he respected her. She hadn't earned it, but it was still there.

"We are _not_ finished," he said in controlled anger. With her nod, he Apparated to as close to Hogwarts as he could manage.


	14. The Volatility of Frog Spit

Fan fiction: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental.

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned.

Author's Notes: None

* * *

Dumbledore listened patiently to Darrin's story along with the heads of houses.

"Intriguing," the headmaster said as Darrin finished telling them all he knew, "They have someone watching the castle."

"But how?" Professor Sprout asked incredulously, "The wards would keep them away, would they not?"

"Who can say? If they can read thoughts like a legillmens then they can certainly do a lot more." Professor McGonagall replied.

"The alternative to that is that their insider is already at the castle." Snape added quietly.

"Impossible," Sprout huffed, "That would mean that it was a student. I hardly think a child would be up to the task of fighting an adult."

"Harry Potter has done so on several occasions and has been rather succesful," Flitwick said.

"That's different," Sprout bit back, "He's the Boy-Who-Lived."

"With all due respect, Professor, that's a load of poppycock," Darrin rebutted earning a gasp and glare from the Hufflepff head, "Children are a lot more resilient than most give them credit. I've seen it first hand on the muggle streets.

"Plus clans such as this have existed throughout time. Take the Knights Templar as an example; They train their children from a remarkably early age. If this "Listener" has been trained since birth, which I think he has, then it stands to reason that he might be able to help."

"And you approve putting a child in harms way, Mister Killroy?" McGonagall asked, looking over he top of her glasses in a disapproving manner.

Darrin gave her an unsettling scowl of his own.

"If I approved I wouldn' a bothered warning yeh now would I? Besides the woman Kay did not say that this Knight was a student; only that he would reveal himself when he chose. For all we know it could be your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."

"It would not have been the first time Hogwarts was infiltrated by someone in that position," Snape sneered in Dumbledore's direction.

In any case," Darrin continued, "We should concentrate less on him and more on how to deal with this Lear and his pals.

"The first time I fought him I managed to defeat him. The second time even though I had subdued him he still got away and with more information than before. Clearly a victory for him. I have to wonder how our next encounter will end up."

"If we have the professors do regular patrols using your variaton of the revealing spell," Snape said, "That will help us track him if he does come. If your variation spell works then a regular revealing spell cast on him should enable others to see him."

"Maybe, but don't count on that as fact."

"I will replenish the anti-fire spells on the castle," Flitwick added, "They weren't due to be replenished for a few years but better safe than sorry."

"And I will see if I can strengthen the anti-Apparation wards," the headmaster stood, "It may or may not be effective but we must try. Now unless anyone has anything to add I suggest we adjourn to prepare the castle. Professor McGonagall, if you would please instruct the other professors on our plan and Mister Killroy's spell."

"Should I inform Mister Devlin as well? He does not have a wand."

Dumbledore's face twitch slightly at the pain of remembering why Aaron no longer had a wand, but it was gone almost immediately.

"Mister Devlin should concentrate on assisting Kim Vermont with his studies. I see no reason to burden him with this."

Professor McGonagall nodded and stood to leave along with the other professors. Flitwick and Sprout left talking amongst themselves. Snape nodded to Darrin, who nodded slightly in return.

"How long do you think it will take them to get here?" Dumbledore asked without preamble the moment Darrin and he were alone.

"Hard to say. Hogwarts is unplottable which means they can't find it by map but the woman seemed very confident of her partner's abilities, whatver they may be. I think it's safe to say that they will eventually find the castle. I speculate that the anti-muggle protections the castle has are probably helping us to some degree. Otherwise the Knights _would_ have known about Hogwarts as fact rather than legend..."

"Something bothers you?"

"I was misleading the others when I told them what Kay had said about the "listener". The way she said it, it was only after she had heard me mention Hogwarts. I think they do have someone here already. Could it be this Aaron Devlin you've hired?"

"I am no expert in matters of geneology," Dumbledoe explained, "Particularly when it comes to muggle-borns, but I think it is unlikely. I had been keeping a close eye on most of his comings and goings ever since he left Hogwarts. Nothing stands out that would indicate he is connected to the Knights.

"Then it must be one of the new students," Darrin thought out loud.

"That's quite an assumption, Mister Killroy. It is no more or less possible that it coulde be one of the older students."

"If yeh say so, sir."

"The Knights seem to know more about us than we do about them," Dumbledore explained, "It stands to reason that they have had more time to get used to the idea of our existence."

Darrin nodded but his tone did not convery agreement. "If yeh say so, sir."

"Do you know something that I do not?" Albus asked passively, sitting back down in his comfortable chair.

Darrin smirked, "I know a lot of things that yeh don't, but about what's going on, no. I just have a feeling is all."

"Go on," the older man prompted.

"These Knights are human, of that there's no question, but still they do things differently than any muggle or wizard would. Very little about them makes sense, so in my logic it would make perfect sense their insider was a first year simply because it doesn't make sense. Am I making any sense?"

"I am not sure anymore," Dumbledore said dryly.

"Neither am I, but let's suppose that they do have an insider here. The only non-magical person in this entire castle is Mister Filch, correct?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"Well that would mean that the Knight's insider is a wizard."

"I surmised as much."

"Well if there were any wizards among the Knights, don't yeh think they would have contacted us sooner? The Knights know very little of the wizarding world."

"And what they do know they learned recently. Very recently." Albus stated, catching on to Darrin's logic, "Which means that they only learned of the wizarding world this summer when their insider received his letter."

"They're desparate," Darrin remarked to himself, remembering the unsettled tone of the old woman, "Which of the male first years are muggle-born?" Darrin asked looking at the scroll case that held the student lists.

The headmaster waved his hand and the list for that year flew out onto the desk. He unrolled it and Darrin wandered around to take a better look.

"Hmmm... There are three male muggle-born first years," Dumbledore noted, "Paul Gates, Angelino Rogassi and Kimber Vermont. Very unfortunate."

"What is?"

"I reiterate Professor McGonagall's earlier question regarding putting children in harms way," the old professor mimicked McGonagall's look.

Darrin responded with a sardonic look, "With respect, sir, are yeh the pot or the kettle? I seem to remember hearing several stories about one Mister Harry Potter."

"Contrary to popular belief," Dumbledore's voice became very dangerous, "I did _not_ willingly let Mister Potter get himself into those situations."

Darrin took a step back from the vernerable headmaster, clearly not wanting to antagonize him further.

"My appologies, Headmaster," he said in a subdued voice.

Dumbledore relaxed and sighed in frustration, "However you do have a valid point. If one of these students is a Knight, then he will undoubtedly try and get involved and there will be little we can do to stop it."

"I suppose not, sir," Darrin said, still subdued but sincere, "I think all we can do is hope for the best and plan for the worst.

* * *

"Is it ready?" Fred asked his twin brother.

"Almost," George replied as he stirred the volatile potion, "Just need to add the powdered cockroach."

He took a dash of the ingredient and slowly stirred it in. The Veritaserum turned pitch black, then after three stirs clockwise, perfectly clear.

"Excellent!" Fred said excitedly, "Now for phase two."

"Hold up, Fred," George extinguished the fire beneath the cauldron, "We have to test it first. You know the rules."

Fred grumbled but said nothing more. His twin cast a cooling charm on the cauldron and soon the bubbling concoction was perfectly still. Fred took a dropperfull of the veritaserum and then added three drops to a glass of water.

"Ready?" George asked.

"As I'll ever be," his twin replied.

Fred then he pulled out a chocolate and bit into it. As expected, the red-haired youth's jaw locked shut.

"Remember, try to lie."

Fred took in several deep breaths then slowly poured some of water over his teeth. As the liquid came into contact with the chocolate, it disolved completely, leaving Fred's jaw unharmed. It was then that he immediately became dizzy and his brother helped him to the chair.

"What is your name?" George asked.

"Frederick Herman Weasley," came the reply. It was a good sign as Fred hated using his full name.

"What is your favorite color?"

"Purple."

George raised an eyebrow at that. He could have sworn Fred's favorite color was blue. It was time for the ringer.

"What really happened between you and Lee Jordan in third year?"

Fred and Lee had a big row about something but neither would talk about it. Lee refused to talk to both of them for two months on the off chance he would confuse one for the other. Fred eventually appologized to Lee for whatever it was that he'd done but it always nagged on George that Fred kept it a secret.

"He caught me in the act one day. We talked about it and then started playing with each other. We even got so far as to try oral on each other, but he chickened out at the last minute. In my frustrated state I called him a teasing poof. When I finally appologized, he made me swear that I wouldn't tell anyone, even you about what happened.

George was taken aback but soon recovered. He dropped some already prepared antidote into another glass of water and gave it to his brother. When Fred came out of his trance he said nothing.

"I'm sorry, Fred," George quickly appologized, "But it has been nagging me to no end for four years. I'll take some now and you can ask me anything you want."

Fred just looked at his brother for a few moments, still in shell shock, then smiled wickedly.

"Gotcha!" he laughed.

"What? You mean you were joking?"

"Well yes and no," Fred replied as he got up to bottle the potion, "The stuff works. That whole incident happened as I said, I was just fooling you about my reaction."

George looked shocked.

"Oh come off it, George. I knew full well you were going to ask that question. That was why I volunteered to test it in the first place. At least now if Lee ever finds out he can't blame me for babbling cause I was under the influence. Oh, and Lee had better not find out."

George shook his head as if to clear it, "Good one, bro. I won't say a word."

"Good. We know the potion works and isn't adversly affected by the chocolate. _Now_ for phase two."

"Phase two," George repeated.

Neither one of them noticed the frog spit residue on the flask they filled.

* * *

"Okay, one more time." George instructed the Gryffindor first year.

"When Mister Devlin is tutoring Kim," Tom Jarvis replied, "I interrupt them to offer them some chocolates that I got from home. I hand this normal one to Kim and this trick one to Mister Devlin. When his jaw locks, I cry, claim you tricked me and then I run and get you to give him the antidote."

"Very good," Fred smiled.

"Are you _sure_ this one is just chocolate? Kim is my best friend here and I won't prank him," the first year said emphatically.

"I guarantee it," George reassured the boy, "One thing we don't do is trick our accomplices. That's what a Slytherin would do. We want to play this joke on Mister Devlin only.

Satisfied, the small boy nodded and went off on his way.

"You know what will happen to us if we're wrong," Fred whispered.

"We aren't wrong," George replied just as softly, "Anyway, we aren't going to mention Bill until Devlin has admitted that he's gay. If we are wrong then we'll just get a detention or two for impropriety. If we're right then we can tell him about Bill and get them hooked up.

"You've seen how lonely Bill is. We're doing this for their own good."

"Just remember, the road to Hell is paved with good intentions," Fred reminded his twin.

"And the road to Heaven is paved with good-inentioned, hair-brained schemes that worked," George countered.

"Then we are in agreement," Fred smiled.

Two minutes later, Tom Jarvis and Kim Vermont came running out of the classroom.

"Mister Devlin's jaw is locked up and he can't get it unstuck!" Tom looked legitimately afraid.

"We'll take care of it, Tom," Fred replied calmly.

"You two go back to the common room," George immediately added, "It's almost time for dinner."

The two first years complied without argument. Fred and George then proceeded into the classroom to find Aaron Devlin attempting to dislodge his jaw. When he saw the twins he glowered at them.

"Sorry about that, Mister Devlin," George started.

"But we occasionally feel it necessary to make a gullible first year into a patsy," Fred continued.

"However we have the antidote here," George finished, "Just wrap your lips around the flask and let a small amount through. The chocolate will disolve completely once it makes contact."

Aaron managed to get some of the concoction through his gritted teeth. Just as the twins said, the chocoalte disolved completely and immediately. However as he swallowed the mixture of Jaw Lock Choc and anitdote, everything became fuzzy. No sooner did he get the last of the chocolate down when he went completely unconscious.

The Weasley twins looked at each other for a brief terrifying moment, not knowing just what happened. Before total panic set in, Aaron's eyes snapped open and he gasped.

The twins sighed and then collected themslves.

"Can you understand us, Mister Devlin?" Fred asked.

"Yes," the man replied not getting up off the floor where he had fallen.

"Good," George continued, "Did you hurt yourself when you fell?"

"I don't believe so," Aaron began to sit up, "What did you give me?"

George looked at Fred curiously. Those under the influence of veritaserum weren't supposed to be able to ask questions back.

"Um, you might just be having a reaction to the antidote. Perhaps you should just stay there for a bit until your head clears."

"Okay," Aaron finished sitting up but went no further.

"Um... are you gay?" Fred asked hesitantly.

"Yes," the drugged man replied, "And this is no ordinary reaction. _What did you give me?_

"Veritaserum," George replied, "But it's for a good cause. Are you attracted to our brother, Bill?"

Aaron immediately stood up and the twins jumped back, fearful of his wrath, but none came.

"Very much so," the translator said, "and no one was supposed to know about it. Especially Bill."

The twins looked at each other, not sure what to do next. The veritaserum was working but not exactly how it was supposed to. But before they could ask him any other questions, Aaron headed for the door.

"I think I'll go tell him."

The twins looked at each other completey horrifed. Whatever they gave him, it wasn't classic Veritaserum. George pulled out the flask of potion.

"It's pink!" Fred's voice squeaked as the twins looked at the translucent pink fluid, "It's not supposed to be pink!"

"It wasn't before," George replied, voice similarly cracking despite their near adult physiology, "You tested it!"

"The choclate!" Fred realized their mistake, "I must not have cleaned out the flask we put the frog spit in properly."

"We've got to stop him!" they both cried then bolted out the door.

Aaron was nowhere to be seen.

"Split up!" they said to each other as they went down separate corridors.

* * *

Aaron found his quarry in the Great Hall at the head table. He casually made his way towards Bill, mentally screaming at himself to stop, but whatever potion those damned twins had slipped him had complete control.

It sure as hell wasn't straight veritaserum, Aaron knew. One aspect of magic he didn't forsake was potions making and even though he was a fary cry from being a true potions master, he was an expert. This was some variation of veritaserum as he was still compelled to tell the complete truth but this particular side effect Aaron had never heard of.

He finally reached to head table and the man who had captured his heart. Bill was trying to feed some owl treats to Haley but the Snowy Owl was having none of it, paying more attention to Aaron arriving than his owner. Bill looked up at him and smiled. Aaron smiled back in sheer bliss. He walked up to the table and stood directly in front of Bill.

"Hi, Aaron," Bill greeted him, "How are you this evening?"

Aaron couldn't help but tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

"I'm completely in love with you," he said, getting the attention of Bill as well as several other professors including Professor Snape, "But you weren't supposed to know that."

Those that heard what Aaron had said were completely silent. Bill paused for a second, not fully comprehending what Aaron had said.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"I said I'm completely in love with you but you weren't supposed to know," Aaron reiterated factually.

Haley chirped excitedly but was ignored by everyone else. Bill thought this might be a prank and so he decided he was going to play along.

"And why wasn't I supposed to know?" he asked with a smile, assuming that this was where Aaron had wanted him to go.

"Because I don't know if you feel the same way and I didn't want to embarass myself," Aaron's smile slowly disappeared.

Bill laughed, "Umm... a bit late for that, don't you think?"

"It wasn't by choice," Aaron replied, "Your brothers gave me a potion. Some sort of veritaserum I think."

When Aaron mentioned his brothers, Bill sat up. When he mentioned Veritaserum, Snape sat up.

"They gave you veritaserum?" they asked near simultaneously.

"A varitation of it. Not sure."

"Professor Weasley," Snape stood, "It would be best to get him out of the Great Hall before he does something completely inappropriate. I can cast a spell..."

"Inappropriate?" Aaron asked, "All I did was profess my love, it's not like I kissed him. Oh now there's a good idea."

"**FINITE FORMULATIUS!**" Snape yelled out, his wand pointing straight at Aaron, but it was too late. Aaron had reached over the table with both hands, grabbed the Defense Professor and had him in a deep, passionate kiss by the time Snape's spell had hit him.

Bill didn't return the kiss but he was too dumfounded to push Aaron away. Aaron stopped the kiss the moment the spell hit him. He looked deep into Bill's ice blue eyes, the blood draining from his face. He let go of the red-haired man and stepped back with a strong exhale. By this time he was already well into shaking.

"I-if you'll excuse me," he said, barely a whisper, "Thank you, Professor Snape."

Aaron slowly turned around, very aware that the entire Great Hall, filled with every almost every student and faculty memeber, had seen him kiss Bill Weasley and was still trying to register it in their own heads. He walked out the side entrance, not trusting himself to make it to the main doors.

Bill watched him leave, unable to fully react. It wasn't until Aaron had left that he was able to turn his head. When he did, he saw Fred and George at the main entrance looking extremely guilty. His blood started to boil. The pressure built so quickly he was surprised he hadn't burst several veins. By the time he stood up, his face was the redder than his hair and it was patently obvious that fratricide was still an option in his mind.

The headmaster started to speak but Bill's hand shot out towards him, demanding that he remain silent. Dumbledore was too taken aback to object.

Bill took a deep breath.

"My office," he said as he slowly exhaled, "right now."

Though he didn't yell, everyone in the Great Hall heard his order. Fred and George wasted no time in complying with that order. When they were gone, Bill took another deep breath.

"It would be prudent for the Headmaster and Head of Gryffindor house to be present at this meeting," he said, his voice shaking in still barely constrained fury. With that, he left.

* * *

Fred and George sat in the front of Bill's classroom in complete silence. The headmaster and Professor McGonagal had arrived shortly after they did but neither would hear what the twins had to say. Apparently they had decided that the Defense professor would have sole discretion in this matter.

Professor Weasley threw the door open but prevented it from slamming. His anger was still present but he appeared to have relaxed considerably.

"I appologize for my delay," he said to the other professors while glaring hard at the twins, "But I felt it necessary to visit Madame Pomfrey for a calming potion. No please don't get up, Headmaster; I'm far to agitated to sit."

Fred and George both gulped as Bill cast a silencing charm. When he was done he spun on the twins.

"**Do you have ****_ANY_**** idea of what you've done?**" he yelled, "_Veritaserum?_ What possesed you to pull such a blatantly illegal stunt?"

"He wasn't supposed to be able to do that," George replied nervously, "Normal Veritaserum supresses major motor control."

"Quite obviously you gave him something else, didn't you?" Bill hissed.

"It was fine when we tested..."

"**Tested on whom?**" Bill interrupted Fred.

"Me!" Fred answered quickly, "We tested it on me. It worked perfectly. It wasn't until I bottled it that the... potion was altered."

"And just how did that happen, Mister Weasley?" Dumbledore asked calmly before Bill could yell the same question.

"I- I hadn't cleaned one of our flasks properly," Fred looked down slightly trying to avoid eye contact with the headmaster, "It must've gotten mixed with some frog spit."

"My God!" Bill felt out of breath, "This prank was so important that you couldn't even follow precautions you learned in first year? Professor Snape will have a field day when he hears this."

"You can't tell him!" George gasped.

"Frog spit is an ingredient well known for it's propensity to have completely random effects," Professor McGonagall interjected, "For Mister Devlin's safety, Professor Snape must be notified. His title of Potions Master is not just an honorary."

As if he had been listening to the conversation, Professor Snape chose that moment to appear. He barged right without so much as an appology and walked straight up to the twins.

"You will be pleased to note that Mister Devlin does not appear to be adversely affected by your pathetic attempt at veritaserum," Snape's voice was all to condescending, "However to be certain that there will be no more effect, I wish to see the potion immediately."

George handed him the flask without arguement. Snape looked at the pinkish liquid with a discerning eye for a moment.

"Consider yourselves extremely lucky," he said, "Any more frog spit and Mister Devlin would have fallen into a deep coma, possibly died. As it is, he should experience no other adverse effects from the potion... directly that is.

"Now where is the remaining potion? This small flask can not be the whole batch."

"Room of requirement," Fred responded meekly, "Think Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."

"Headmaster?" Snape waited for confirmation to retrieve the potion. He was responded to with a nod and then swept from the room as quickly as he entred.

"Possibly _died_!" Bill hissed again, his face becoming redder, "Why did you do this?"

The twins hesitated which ired Bill even more.

"Answer me!" he yelled, "Why?"

"We- we wanted to find out if he was gay or not," George stammered.

"Well you certainly got your answer now, didn't you?" Bill's face became even redder, "As did the _ENTIRE SCHOOL_!"

"We weren't trying to embarass y.."

"**EMBARASS ME?**" Bill stepped up to the twins, forcing them to step back, "Oh if that was all you did I wouldn't even be as nearly as angry as I am right now. I can accept you embarassing me; you've done it for as long as you could walk. Hell I expect you to embarass me and dare I say I even miss it on occasion. This is not about you embarassing me but embarassing and _nearly killing_ Mister Devlin.

"He has no affiliation with our family, he is at Hogwarts in an official capacity and yet you saw fit to invade his privacy? You boys are seventeen. That means you are legally responsible for your actions despite being here at Hogwarts. If he so chose, Mister Devlin could bring you up on charges and you'd be spending the next five years in Azkaban! Do you relly want that?"

Both boys shook their heads.

"Well I suggest..."

Bill was interrupted by a knock on the door. Professor McGonagall, being nearer. opened the door to find the new Head Boy, a Gryffindor named Nathan Lemont. He seemed slightly agitated.

"Oh Professor, I really need your help," the Head Boy said, "Tom Jarvis is in hysterics. He thinks he's going to be expelled because he was the one to play the prank on Mister Devlin."

All heads turned to the twins expectantly.

"He just gave him some of our Jaw Lock Choc," Fred replied quickly.

"He was only our setup man, nothing more," George finished.

"I tried to tell him that the twins do that all the time but he doesn't believe me," the Head Boy added.

"Assuming Mister Devlin does not pursue legal charges," McGonagall stated, purposefully leaving the door open so the Head Boy could hear, "I will endorse any punishment including expulsion."

Then the Gryffindor Head of House left to calm down a very upset first year. Bill scowled at the twins once again.

"Boy you two sure cause a lot of collateral damage," he said derisively, "Who else is going to suffer because of this madness? I expect better from a Weasley."

At hearing Bill invoke family pride, Fred angered and stood abruptly.

"**YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO TALK TO ME ABOUT FAMILY PRIDE!**" he yelled, loudly enough that Bill took a step back in surprise, "**How ****_dare_**** you?**

"George and I will take whatever punishment you or anyone else gives out. We deserve it and we won't argue otherwise, but at least we have the courage to admit our failings. At least we have the courage to not hide who we truly are. You can hardly say the same, _dear brother William_, considering _your_ little secret."

"Fred..." George tried to interrupt but Fred would not have any of it.

"If you want to expell us and send us to rot in prison, so be it," Fred took out his wand and slammed it down on the desk. He looked straight into the Headmaster's eyes, "I'll gladly give up magic if it means I keep my integrity."

He then turned back to Bill, venom pouring from his eyes, "Unlike some Slytherins I know."

Fred turned and walked out the door, not even pausing to wait for his twin. George stood, set his wand next to his brother's and also walked out, not able to look at either Bill or the Headmaster. He paused at the last moment, still avoiding either's gaze.

"You're lonely, Bill," he said softly, "We were hoping Mister Devlin liked you because it's obvious that you like him. We figured maybe you two could get together. He's never seemed to care what the rest of the wizarding world thought about him. A virtue that you claimed to have just a few months ago when you chastized Ron."

George said no more as he walked out of the Defense classroom. Bill was torn between his anger and his guilt. George was right and so was Fred in a sense. But that didn't excuse their near criminal negligence.

"A complicated matter, indeed," The Headmaster rose, collecting the abandoned wands, "I will discuss the matter of legalities with Mister Devlin. Good evening, Professor Weasley."

The old professor left Bill to wrestle with his demons.

* * *

Kim had just began eating dinner when it happened. Activity in the entire Great Hall had stopped so Kim followed their eyes only to see his translator kissing Professory Weasley. What he saw was very brief as Professor Snape had cast a spell at Mister Devlin who immediately stepped back.

The young boy watched in fascination as his translator walked out the side door. He took a quick glance at Professor Weasley and a cold chill ran down his spine. He had never seen anyone that angry before. Kim was glad he wasn't the person the Defense professor was angry at, but he felt sorry for the twin boys.

Soon, the Defense professor, Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore left the head table, their meals unfinished. Kim also noticed Professor Snape leave out the same door that Mister Devlin had. Kim took a few very healthy bites of his dinner (even the carrots) then rushed out to follow Professor Snape.

Figuring that Mister Devlin was heading to his room, Kim headed towards the staff wing. Though students were not expressly forbidden to go down that hall, it was considered taboo, but Kim didn't care. He had been watching his translator for some time now and could see how happy the man was whenever he was near the Defense professor. Professor Weasley seemed to brighten as well anytime the two had to spend time together.

Kim had written to his parents regularly about everything that was going on (sometimes he coded it due to the nature of his report) and his parents had written back. On one occasion it was a reminder of the birds and the bees. He didn't know why they were re-explaining that at first, especially since he hadn't mentioned liking any girls, but soon it became all too apparent as they had then gone to explain things further than they had before. Apparently some boys liked other boys in a similar fashion as his parents liked each other.

That was a weird thought as far as Kim was concerned but his parents seemed to be okay with it and that was good enough for him. And since his parents had explained that, he could easily see that his two favorite adults at Hogwarts really liked each other. But what he couldn't understand was why Mister Devlin chose to do something about it now, and why so publicly. Kim was going to get answers.

As he entered the staff hall, Professor Snape just barely avoided crashing into him on his way out. The professor said something but Kim missed it. Kim signed and said his appology, knowing that the usually brooding potions professor would expect it even if it was his fault.

The professor nodded and then stormed off to wherever it was he was heading. Kim continued his way to Mister Devlin's door. Aaron answered quickly, wiping something from is eyes. Kim frowned. He could tell when someone had been crying.

Mister Devlin, why are you crying? he signed.

Kim, I am not in the mood for visitors right now, Aaron replied, Maybe tomorrow.

I don't understand, Kim persisted, Are you crying becaused you kissed Professor Weasley?

Aaron sighed, not wanting to yell at the boy but certainly not wanting to talk about it.

Yes, he replied, I wasn't in complete control of myself. Now Kim, please go. I want to be alone right now.

But didn't you want to kiss him? Kim asked, refusing to go just yet.

Of course I didn't! Aaron signed harshly, It's not like I'm gay.

Kim frowned, Oh, I thought you were.

I only kissed him because I was under the control of a potion. Aaron tried to explain, That doesn't make me gay.

I wasn't talking about the kiss, Kim signed, I was talking about the way you two look at each other.

Aaron scowled, And just how do we look at each other?

Like my parents do. On their last anniversary they couldn't take their eyes off one another practically all day. They shuffled me off to my grandmother's for the night.

Aaron couldn't help but blush at the thought of why Kim was sent away. Kim noticed.

Yeah, exactly like that, he smiled, Both you and Professor Weasley do that. You just only do it when the other isn't looking.

Aaron's heart couldn't help but soar. Did Bill really look at him like that? No, Kim had to be misinterpreting it. He shook his head.

No, that can't be right. I'm sure you're just seeing things.

Kim scowled hard, My grandmother sees "things". I see you and Professor Weasley making eyes at each other, Kim rolled his eyes, Really, you both act like girls when you do that.

Aaron couldn't help but laugh, Act like girls, huh?

Kim nodded, Yes.

And you don't have a problem with me kissing Professor Weasley?

Kim shook his head, I think it's kind of weird, but it's not me you're kissing, so why should I have a problem with it?

Aaron frowned slightly, Some people do. Normally I wouldn't give a damn but this time, it's not just my feelings involved.

So you _are_ gay?

Kim, that is a very personal thing you're asking me.

I wasn't trying to be rude, sir, Kim appologized.

I think I understand, Aaron signed back, Look, Kim, not too many people in the wizarding world can accept things like this so easily. I don't know why that is but it just is. If this got out, then you would begin to hear a lot of negative comments thrown my way.

When I asked my Mum and Dad about you and Professor Weasley, they said the same thing. I know how to keep secrets, Kim reassured his translator.

I appreciate that. Well I have had a really rough evening so I think I'll turn in early. I'll see you bright and early to morrow morning?

You got it! kim smiled.

Aaron smiled in return and showed Kim to the door. When he opened it, Albus Dumbledore was staning there, about to knock. He looked less than his usual jovial self but his smile was there in the instant he had seen Kim.

'Good reaction time,' Aaron couldn't help but think.

"Ah, young Mister Vermont. So good to see you. How are your studies coming along?" Dumbledore asked.

"Great!" Aaron translated, though the headmaster could easily see the enthusiasm for himself, "Mister Devlin said I am much better than he was at my age."

"Ah, well to be fair, Mister Devlin did not have a tranlsator during his time. It was much more difficult."

"That's too bad," Kim said with a wicked grin, "Maybe I'll tutor him once I graduate."

"Oh that's it!" Aaron immediately replied, also grinning. "You're lucky I can't take away house points mister. Now scoot!"

Kim giggled as he ducked out of Aaron's reach. When he was gone from the hall, Aaron noticed Dumbledore's expression go very serious.

"Before you begin," Aaron started off, "I just want to say that I was under the influence of a potion."

The headmaster followed Aaron inside and shut the door.

"This is not about your conduct, Mister Devlin, at least not directly. The Weasley twins have already told us everything. Apparently, a small amount of frog spit was mixed in with the veritaserum."

"I knew that couldn't have been the regular stuff," Aaron mused to himself, "So if you're not here to yell at me, then what are you here for?"

"The amount of frog spit was just under a potentially lethal dose, Mister Devlin," Albus said gravely, "It would be inappropriate for me not to inform you of that fact."

Aaron pondered what the old professor just said.

"So they _almost_ killed me?"

"Yes. Did you want to press charges? They are seventeen and therefore fully legally responsible for their actions.

"Oh for crying out loud it was a prank," Aaron had to sit down, "Had they actually meant to kill me then yes, I might be interested in pursuing legal action. But they didn't mean to nor did they suceed. Why ruin their lives over it?"

Albus blinked a few times to make sure he had heard Aaron correctly.

"I must say, I'm surprised to hear this. I expected you to be quite angry."

"Oh, don't get me wrong, Professor," Devlin replied with a mirthless grin, "I'm fit to be tied, but there are better ways of dealing with this situation than hard time."

"And what would you suggest?" Albus sat down in the other armchair.

"Truthfully, I'd say a taste of their own medicine, but as an official staff memeber of Hogwarts, I could never participate or condone such actions."

"Well then," Albus said, the twinkle in his eyes brighter than ever, "Perhaps I was negligent when I forgot to mention that you that you were never an official staff memeber of Hogwarts. You are an Amercian Liason here as a diplomatic courtesy. Therefore, you are entitled to certain diplomatic concessions... within reason, of course."

Aaron looked at Dumbledore, not quite believing what he had heard.

"Professor Dumbledore, are you saying..."

"I am merely taking the advisement of the diplomatic envoy who happened to be the most affected by this unfortunate incident," the wiley headmaster interrupted, "There will, of course, be the standard punishments: Detentions, loss of house points and the like. I know for one that Molly Weasley will probbly have a few choice words to say."

Aaron's mood soured, "Oh is there anyway you can prevent that?"

"Sir, I doubt even Lord Voldemort could stop that, but I am curious as to why you would like me to try."

"I don't want Professor Weasley to put up with more embarassment."

"Interesting you should say that, Mister Devlin," Albus said as he stood and exited Aaron's quarters, "Professor Weasley seemed much more concerned with your embarassment. Good night, Mister Devlin."

Aaron's heart soared once again when he heard that. So much that he fell asleep right in the chair, a smile still on his face.

* * *

Eric moved quietly through the hallways of the castle. So far no one had detected him and he was counting his blessings on that. There was a palpable energy about the place and it made him extremely uncomfortable. He felt completely saturated by it. The sooner he got the key and left, the better.

Friga was not able to get a lot of information from their wizard adversary, just his name and that the Key was here at Hogwarts in the stewardship of the headmaster. This made his task all the more difficult as he had no clue where anything or anyone was, but he couldn't blame her as much as he wanted to. Telepathy was a rare gift and not one easily learned or implemented. Even the masters couldn't get any more than surface thoughts without having to take several minutes with the subject. Minutes that they did not have at the time.

So now he was here, hoping to find the headmaster and follow him to the key.

Eric quickly ducked behind a suit of armor as a myriad of students burst forth from a set of large double doors. He caught a glimpse of the hall beyond and could see it was their cafeteria, if you could call it such a thing. The students were all talking about the same thing but with the conversations overlapping, Eric could only get a snippet here and there. Apparently one of their teachers was having an affair.

Eric smirked. If that was the case then wizards were more human than the legends made them to be.

He remained hidden behind the armor, not wanting to accdentally bump into one of the children. His invisibility was working well but it would be for nothing if he made contact with someone, at least for that person. However one person seeing him was one too many.

After a few minutes, the dining hall was empty and the students wandering off to their dorms. Eric was about to go off down another corridor when he spotted one of the adults, presumably a teacher. The man had a scowl that Eric knew well. This was a teacher and he did not like his students at all.

The dark somewhat greasy haired man walked briskly by, his robes billowing slightly in his wake and a large phial contining what looked to be water in his hand. Eric supressed a laugh at overly flamboyant scene and followed the teacher, hoping he would lead the way to or near the headmaster's office. Keeping pace was a trifle difficult as he was trying to make no noise but he maintained his secrecy.

As they were heading up their third flight of steps, the staircase started to move! Eric grabbed onto the railing just in time to prevent himself from falling. He looked behind him at where the bottom of the stairs should have been only to find open air. This was obviously a normal thing as the man he was following barley broke his stride. Eric quickly rushed to catch up.

He followed the teacher down a long and large hallway and hid off to the side as the man stopped in front of a pair of gargoyles.

"Blood Pops." the instructor hissed, clearly upset about something.

The gargoyles practically lept out of the man's way. As he was about to enter a voice caught his attention.

"Professor Snape!" came the raspy ethereal voice. Eric had quiet his gasp when he saw the owner of that voice.

The apparition was a man dressed in what Eric guessed was mideval or victorian era clothing, covered in large spots of silvery-red blood. He looked rather surly.

"Yes, Baron," Professor Snape replied, a little surly himself, "What can I do for you?"

"I understand that we are employing men who lie with other men. The Grey Lady informed me of this evening's event. The House of Slytherin is already vocalizing their displeasure and I must say I am in agreement."

"And I also agree, Baron, however the Headmaster will only take my counsel so far. I'm afraid the House of Slytherin will just have to cope for the time being."

"So I have said to them, yet I fear they will insist on making plans that could embarass the good name of our house. Draco Malfoy's uncharacteristic behaviour was just the first."

Eric watched the professor rub his head in annoyance.

"Very well," Snape sighed, "I shall speak to them at once. Please inform the other Heads of Household to do likewise. Mr. Devlin was under the influence of a poorly made potion by the Weasley twins and was not himself. It won't stop the rumors but it will waylay them for a short while."

The ghost bowed slightly and floated off through the wall. The professor walked back towards Eric, passed him without so much as a glance and continued on to his destination. Soon, Eric was all alone in the hall. He walked up to the gargoyles who were now back together.

Making sure that he was completely alone in the hall, he whispered "Blood Pops", and the gargoyles once again lept apart. He entered the spiral staircase and was a little unnerved by it's movement but kept himself calm. He stepped off the moving staircase when he reached the first door. Upon checking, it was unlocked, but when he opened it he was startled by a shrill whistling from a small device on one of the tables.

The portraits all woke up and were in some sort of furor and Eric quickly guessed that it was him. Somehow they knew he was there though they could not see him. After seeing one of the portraits disappear entirely, Eric knew his time was just cut short. Wasting no more time, he checked the office for the Key.

It took him just a few minutes to find it with all the other trinkets and gadgets strewn about the place. It was sitting inside a glass cupboard next to a stone bowl filled with a silvery-white mist. Careful to avoid touching anything he wasn't sure of, he grabbed the Key and made for a hasty exit. He was hindered by the old man who had just arrived.

The man's wand was out but he could still not see Eric. Taking advantage of this, Eric pulled the man's wand from him with his power and struck him hard in the chest, knocking the wind out of him. He followed up by shoving the old man's head againt the stone wall. Eric sneered in satisfaction as the old man's eyes rolled and he collapsed unconscious.

A piercing screech came from behind him as a bright red bird flew up to the old man. Not wanting to see what might happen next, Eric bolted down the stairs. He flew from the office abandoning all pretense of quiet yet he kept his invisibility up. He reached the main stairwell and notcied that the stairs had moved once again. Taking the only route available to him, he climbed up the stairs. When he reached the top, he gasped at the sight before him.


	15. The Family Feud round 1

Fan fiction: Harry Potter

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the original characters. Any similarities to persons living or dead are coincidental.

Rated R: For violence, some language, mature content, and eventual slash. Though I haven't decided how much, you have been warned.

Author's Notes: Well it took me almost a year to write this. I'd like to say that all that time was spent slaving away at it but I can't lie. At least not that blatantly. I am going to finish this story eventually... I hope, but as always, real life comes first. Thanks to those of you who have been patient.

* * *

Haley didn't return to the owlery after his Red Hair had left. Even though he had spent the moonfall out on errands, he did not feel tired and so decided that he would fly around the Hogwarts just to see what was about. He was joined by another snowy owl. From what she had told him, she was the companion to Green Eyes.

All the owls knew who Green Eyes was. Their companions were always talking about him in some way or another. Though the owls themselves did not normally concern themselves with the humans outside of their post duties, it was hard not to know about him. Because Haley was sometimes a companion of his Red Hair, he knew all the Red Hairs considered Green Eyes like a hatch-mate.

Haley enjoyed the stories Hedwig had told him though they were small. He found it funny yet concerning when she had told him about the time Green Eyes had nearly forgotten her at the Round One's tree. He thought no human should ever have an owl companion if they were not going to take care of them. Hedwig then explained how the Round Ones liked to screech at Green Eyes.

She understood the humans better than most owls did. Green Eyes was just trying to escape his nest. He had never forgotten her again and always thought of her first when they were traveling, especially to the Hogwarts. Haley still could not understand, but he accepted that Hedwig knew what she was doing.

They flew about and began to hunt. Hedwig was a keen hunter and an experienced flyer. Haley was still quite young so he followed her lead. They found a quick meal of some mice and were soon feasting. When they were through, they took flight. Haley went off to circle the Hogwarts again while Hedwig went to visit her Green Eyes. He had apparently hurt himself _again_.

Haley flew in close to get a better look at a shadow that had caught his eye. Most owls could not see very far but Haley was different. Though his eyesight was not spectacularly better than other owls, it was enough to be significant.

He perched on a low turret of the Hogwarts and directed his meager sight towards where he thought he saw the shadow. He could not be positive from this distance but he thought he saw some more movement. He dropped off the turret and spread his wings to slow his descent. When he reached the small window sill, he landed expertly with only a few silent flaps of his wings.

Hedwig might have been the better flyer, but he was the better lander.

Either his eyes were playing tricks on him or the shadow he had seen disappeared quickly once inside the Hogwarts. Haley decided that he would fly around the inside just to be sure. He dropped off the sill and did a beautiful spin that allowed him to glide into the Hogwarts right as the doors closed.

He flew all around the inside of the Hogwarts. He got a few looks from several of the students who were not used to the owls, but most just ignored him. After flying throughout the west half of the Hogwarts, he found himself in the main stairwell. It was there that he saw the shadowed man. For some reason, he couldn't see the man clearly, even with his better than owl-normal eyesight. It was like the man wasn't there, but at the same time was there. The man appeared to be pointing at something down a hallway.

Haley knew this man was about to do something very bad, so he flew into action.

* * *

Kim smiled as he walked from the Hospital wing along side Simon. After seeing Mr. Devlin, he had gone to see if Harry was any better. Simon had done the same and had brought Harry up to date on what happened at dinner. Madame Pomfrey let them visit for a very brief while but soon shooed them both out. That Harry was okay was all Kim needed to know. He wouldn't even need to write his parents about it.

Simon's fears weren't so easily alleviated. After hearing most of the talk from the other students as they left the Great Hall, he was made acutely aware of just how much the wizarding world did not appreciate homosexuals. What made it worse was that Crabbe and Goyle had already told their fellow Slytherins their version of what had happened between Draco Malfoy and Harry.

Naturally, they embellished on what they saw. Not only was Harry's arm around Simon, they were snogging heavily. As the rumor mill goes, by the time it got around to the school, Simon and Harry had been just shy of shagging when Malfoy and company had caught them, and in anger, Harry had attacked first.

Harry had already been told the rumor by Hermione and Ron so Simon didn't have to suffer the embarrassment of bringing it up, but he couldn't fathom how Harry could take the whole situation so calmly. Harry could only shrug and say that he was used to things like this. Harry was more concerned about how Simon was going to deal with the rumors.

Simon didn't have a chance to answer because Kim had shown up. After another round of the "How are you doing?" game, Madame Pomfrey kicked both visitors out of the hospital wing. Now the two youths walked slowly back to their respective dorm in silence.

After a minute or so, Kim stopped them both. He wore a mild frown.

(Why are you so down?) the younger boy signed.

Simon just shrugged and was about to continue walking when Kim stopped him again.

(It's about the rumor, isn't it?)

(Look, nothing happened!) Simon signed and yelled, (And I don't appreciate...)

Kim grabbed Simon's hand then held his finger up to his lips as if to silence the older boy.

(Don't talk, just sign,) Kim signed, (And I'm not making fun of you, I was just worried is all.)

(Thank you for your concern, but save it.)

Simon walked off in a huff only to be kicked by Kim. Kim scowled and began to sign furiously at Simon.

(Look! I was just trying to help. You don't have to be such a git!)

Kim stalked off not bothering to see if Simon had a retort. Simon scowled in anger as he rubbed his lightly bruised calf. He was about to chase after the brat and give him a few more words when a loud bang echoed throughout the hallway. Simon's first thought was that it was a car back firing but that was impossible; there were no cars out here. Then the cold realization hit him. That was a gun shot.

His fear was confirmed when he saw a man dressed in black clothing fighting a white owl over what was definitely a gun. The owl had won and knocked the gun out of the stranger's hand but at a cost. The man in black swung with a vicious punch and hit the owl square in its body. The owl screech and followed the gun down into the stairwell.

Simon would later recollect that it was at that point the _real_ fight had begun.

* * *

Eric growled in frustration as he watched the owl fall along with his gun down the stairwell. His invisibility had fallen completely when the owl surprised him and now he didn't even have his gun. No matter, the son of his most hated enemy would just have to die by his bare hands. He looked up at the young boy he once affectionately called nephew. The boy recognized him instantly. Eric sneered.

And then he found himself thrown back as if a concussive grenade had been thrown at him. He fell down the stairs and it was only due to the mixture of his telekinesis and physical training that allowed him to survive with just less than moderate bruising. As he looked up to the top of the stairs, he saw the wretched little bastard with a stick in his hand.

Not even thinking about the connotations of that he flung the boy far back with his powers, but the boy was almost as quick and had cast another blast, this time hitting him square in the face. He screamed as the spark burnt his flesh and temporarily blinded him.

Eric knew instantly that the burn was bad enough that even Friga would not be able to heal it without scarring. Now he was really pissed off. Using his fury he unleashed a powerful telekinetic blast at where he thought the boy was. Though Eric knew he did not strike the boy directly, it was just as good.

The top of the stone staircase exploded underneath the wretched boy, scattering debris and stone shrapnel practically everywhere. The explosion also threw him right into Eric's hands.

He grabbed the boy by the neck and began to squeeze. The boy kicked and flailed but Eric barely noticed due to the adrenalin running through his veins.

"Dear nephew," Lear taunted, knowing full well the boy could not hear him, "How I wish you were your fath-ERGH!"

Eric fell back down the stairs—his legs having completely failed him for some reason—with the boy landing on top of him. His anguish lightened considerably when his eyesight began to clear but it didn't last long as he saw a teen-aged boy pointing a wand in his direction. He became even more disheartened when he felt and heard the crack of his nose being broken by the now dangerously hysterical child.

Hit after painful hit landed on Eric's face and he felt real fear for his life. Gathering what little mental energy he had left he used his psychoportation ability, imagining himself at the bottom landing where the entrance hall connected to the stairwell. Unfortunately, his control was lacking under the onslaught of his enemy's son, and the boy came with him, still trying to beat the life out of him.

Eric grabbed the boy and flung him aside as if he weighed nothing. The boy cried out as he landed on his arm wrong and Eric heard the tell-tale snap of breaking bones. He sneered victoriously as he managed to crawl out the entrance hall.

Whatever spell the other boy had hit him with was still in effect but he still had some mental strength left and used it to escape. When he reached the great entrance doors he ported once again to the castle gates where Aesop was waiting to spirit him away into the night.

* * *

Simon didn't know how he had done it, but his wand was pointing at Kim and he had somehow slowed the boy's fall. It was just enough to prevent him from being seriously hurt but the deaf boy did give out an audible "OOF!" when he landed. However, the precocious first year did not seem the least bit deterred. His legs shot up and back down as flipped himself into a standing position.

Simon instinctively tried to warn Kim, but realized too late that the boy could not possibly hear him. As he started to reach out to grab the younger boy, a loud crash rang throughout the hall forcing him to flinch. Debris from the stone staircase where Kim once stood shot out and Simon ducked just in the nick of time, receiving only a few minor scratches to his face. His body was not so lucky as a fragment of sharp stone wedged itself into the back of his right shoulder.

Simon yelled out in pain and dropped to the floor in effort to avoid more flying debris. When the heavy pieces cleared Simon looked around to see where Kim had landed. Fear clutched his heart when the small first year could not be seen. He scrambled up and to the edge of where the staircase used to be and gasped at the sight before him. Instead of seeing Kim unconscious as he had expected, he saw the young boy dangling by his neck in the hand of the mysterious intruder.

Simon's wand hand flew into action and pointed at the man's feet. He knew that he yelled out a spell but his conscious mind was still trying to grasp the fact that a young boy was being murdered right before his eyes. The man's legs fell out from under him and he and the boy ended up sprawled on the landing.

Simon watched in a mixture of fascination and horror as Kim brought down fist after fist into the dark man's burnt face. What horrified him even more was when they both disappeared right before his eyes. Knowing that this was impossible made the fact all the more frightening.

The sound of a child screaming in pain rose up from the bottom of the stairwell. Simon rushed to the side of the broken staircase, catching himself on the railing as he slipped on some debris. He looked down to the bottom of the stairwell and saw Kim laying awkwardly against a wall, his right arm clearly broken and bending the wrong way. The dark intruder was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Kim stormed away from Simon no longer interested in his excuses. He had only been trying to help. He had heard the rumor about Harry and Simon and though he didn't believe for one moment that they had been found shagging each other, he did think they were acting remarkably similar to his translator and Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Kim's thoughts were interrupted when he saw before him a man fighting with a snowy owl over a gun. The owl managed to get the gun away from the man and was rewarded by a back fist to its body. The owl went flying down the staircase. Kim gasped as he recognized the man. He brought his wand up just as the man turned to him and sneered. Clearly the man recognized him as well.

Without a second thought Kim released the biggest spark he could manage at his estranged uncle. The man fell backwards and Kim rushed forward trying to keep the advantage. He had just released another spark when he found himself flying backwards through the air. He felt a rush of adrenaline similar to that when he had ridden the roller coaster at an adventure park, only it was accompanied with a healthy dose of fear as his body came closer and closer to the ground.

Kim was surprised he had landed as light as he did but it was enough for him to lose his breath for a moment. He breathed in heavily as he raised his feet and then exhaled sharply as he flipped himself upright. He ran forward to engage his uncle once again and once again found himself hurtling through the air.

He could not hear the explosion of the staircase but he certainly felt the concussive force. Shards of stone shredded at his legs, feet and back as he flew towards his enemy. The man caught him right out of the air and immediately had his hands around his neck. As the evil man slowly squeezed the life out of him, Kim saw the hideously burnt face of his uncle.

It was in that moment that Kim really began to fear for his life. It was that moment that he fully understood exactly what it meant to be a Knight of Merlin's Keep and the dangers that came with the title. And he knew that he had to survive this night, so he kicked and kicked. A fury he had never before felt was let loose, fueled by the malice that he saw in his uncle's glassy eyes and his own embarrassment at having relieved himself.

He began to kick harder and harder but even with his fury at its fullest, the lack of oxygen had already caught up with him and he was beginning to lose consciousness. Then as suddenly as the choking began it ended. He could once again breathe and breathe he did. He discovered that he was now on top of his uncle and his fury could now be realized. He lashed out with his fist hard into the man's charred face.

As Kim's punch landed on Lear's nose, he felt the cartilage snap and before he could stop himself he threw punch after punch. His uncle had betrayed the Knights, had betrayed his father and had betrayed _him_ and to top it all off, had even tried to kill him. He kept punching and punching, not realizing that they were no longer on the landing but on the ground floor of the stairwell.

Once again he experienced the feeling of flight only this time, when he landed, it was leagues more painful as he was flung into a post. Kim screamed as his arm snapped brusquely in two and the broken bones ripped through his skin. The pain was so much that he could not even straighten himself.

* * *

The explosion rang throughout Aaron's head, instantly waking him from his pleasant dreams. He instinctively covered his ears as if to protect his hearing and cursed himself for forgetting to remove the hearing spell before he fell asleep.

After taking a few moments to let his "hearing" adjust itself to his wakeful state Aaron was out the door to investigate the noise. It had to have either been very close or very large for the sound to carry that far and that loud. Seeing as the hallway seemed remarkably the same Aaron suspected it was the latter.

As Aaron made his way through the hallway he noticed that the all the portraits were either empty or their occupants were all running towards the Grand Stairwell. From their excited words he gathered that something horrible happened but the portraits did not yet know what it was. Aaron decided to haste himself towards the Grand Stairwell also.

Aaron was confused at what he saw when he reached the stairwell. There were no stairs leading to or from the landing; he was completely cut off.

"What the hell?" he asked himself as he stepped out onto the landing noticing stone debris at his feet. He looked up to see the staircase above him. It looked like it had been detonated with an explosive. He also noticed Simon clinging to the remains of the railing.

"Simon!" he called up to the boy, "Are you okay?"

The young teen managed to straighten himself out safely on the remains of the landing.

"I'm fine but Kim is hurt!" he pointed down to the bottom of the stairwell.

Aaron leaned over to look where Simon was pointing and he saw the leg of his young charge sticking out from behind a stone column.

"KIM!" he shouted reactively, knowing full well the deaf boy could not hear him.

Aaron looked around frantically to see if anyone else could reach the boy but no one else had yet shown up, though it was only a matter of time.

"Damn these stairs," Aaron hissed, "Never around when you need them."

"The stairs are charmed to avoid dangerous areas," an old wizard portrait said from his crowded frame, "It is to help avoid further injuries."

"Not bloody useful if you cut off the only source of help," Aaron scoffed.

Just as he did so, a stone railing slid out from the wall trapping him onto the landing. Aaron had only enough time to turn around to see what was happening before the landing suddenly dropped like the stone it was made from. He grabbed onto a railing to steady himself as he was lowered into the stairwell. Like a lift in a muggle building, the landing stopped the next floor down where there was a staircase. The railing that was blocking his path slid into the wall.

Aaron was dumbfounded for only a moment then he shot down the staircase taking three steps at a time. The moment he left the landing, the railing replaced itself and the landing floated back to its original floor. Aaron noticed none of this as he ran to the main floor.

He got to the boy just as other teachers and students arrived to see what was the matter. Kim's legs were a bloodied mess and his right arm looked even worse. The bone had clearly broken through the boy's skin and Aaron was glad the robe sleeve covered the sight.

Kim's wails shot through Aaron's heart and he somehow knew that the boy was suffering through more than just physical pain. Aaron gently placed his hands on the boy; one on his right shoulder and the other on his right hand. With a deep breath, he concentrated.

"Immobilus Segmentum" he whispered, followed quickly by a "Poena Supprimere". Kim cried out as his arm was locked into place but soon relaxed as the pain relieving spell took effect.

Even though the pain in his body was significantly reduced, Kim couldn't stop crying which confirmed to Aaron that Kim's distress was much more than physical. Not really knowing what else to do he gently picked the boy up. Kim immediately buried his head into Aaron's chest and wrapped his good arm tightly around his Tutor.

* * *

At the end of an hour, everyone in the school had heard about the fight in the Grand Stairwell and that the Headmaster had also been injured and taken to the hospital wing. To help control the inevitable panic and rumor-mongering, the entire student body was brought down to the Great Hall where they would spend the night much like two years previous when Sirius Black had been on the grounds.

As the other professors watched over the students, Professor McGonagall was in the hospital wing still trying to find out everything that had happened. Even after giving him a calming drought, Kim was in no emotional state to explain what happened and when pressed he would avoid looking at Aaron and everyone else. Aaron finally convinced the Deputy Headmistress that attempting to continue was completely futile at this time.

Simon was another matter entirely. It took most of that hour to get Simon calmed down again, for once he'd seen the blood from his wounded shoulder the panic attack he was so valiantly trying to avoid hit him full force. It took two full adult doses of a calming drought before it seemed to have an effect.

He explained as best he could what had happened and what he did but they still had no idea who the mystery man was, though McGonagall would have guessed correctly that it was this Lear person they were to be watching for.

The Deputy Headmistress had not heard from Darrin Killroy so she could only hope that he was out looking for Lear and had not yet known about the attack. Only Dumbledore would know for sure where the Slytherin was, unfortunately the Headmaster was still unconscious. Madame Pomfrey had managed to revive him but for just long enough to ensure that he was not in a coma. Once she had dealt with his concussion she gave him a sleeping draught much to the chagrin of everyone else.

"I wouldn't give a bleeding whit if it was Merlin himself. He's my patient and I say he needs sleep _now_!" she said and then proceeded to force the potion down the man's throat ending any possible argument.

At this point, Professor McGonagall was at the end of her wits. She left the injured to Madame Pomfrey's care so that she could try and curtail the wild stories naturally running rampant amongst the student body. Aaron stayed to watch over Kim and in case the medi-witch needed to communicate with the boy.

He and Harry Potter began a conversation to try and alleviate the boredom.

"Didn't Simon mention something about an owl?" Harry asked.

"Haley, Bill's... Um, Professor Weasley's owl," Aaron flushed slightly at mentioning the defense professor so familiarly, "Hagrid is taking care of him. He says that there are definitely some broken ribs but other than that the most extensive damage is bruising. That is one tough bird."

"He's in good hands with Hagrid," Harry said reassuringly.

There was an awkward silence between the two and neither knew exactly how to fill it. Harry kept glancing back to Simon, the worry quite evident on his face. He would immediately turn away whenever he thought the translator might be looking but Aaron simply shifted his chair so that he didn't have a direct view of Harry or Simon.

"I heard about what happened," Harry said yawning.

Aaron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He knew that eventually he would have to deal with the students about the kiss but he really hadn't expected it to be so soon, especially with the other events that night. He turned to Harry and saw the boy looking both worried, sympathetic and extremely tired.

After a few moments of staring at each other, Harry continued.

"Mr. Devlin," he asked turning to look at Simon, "Is it okay for a guy to like another guy? I mean, you know... like a guy likes a girl?"

Aaron took a deep breath and thought how to answer the question. Clearly Harry's question was about himself and the Ravenclaw in the next bed, not Bill or the fact that Aaron had kissed him.

"I'm not sure I'm the right person to ask that, Harry. We come from very different cultures."

"But you're English, aren't you? I know you spent a lot of time in America."

"Yes but that's not what I'm talking about," Aaron shifted back towards Harry, "You come from a hearing culture, I come from a deaf culture. The deaf community is, for the most part, far more accepting of things like that, mostly out of necessity.

"I don't understand," Harry shook his head.

"There are far more gays in the world than there are deaf people. If we deaf are to maintain our culture, then we really can't afford to be as selective. That would mean accepting those who would otherwise be different be it by religion, sexual identity, political preferences... And boy can the deaf community get political.

"My point is, the one thing that defines our community and our culture—our lack of hearing—trumps pretty much anything else that might be out there that would normally separate us. The hearing community is much more vast and as a result, people are more selective of who they would associate with and most definitely they are more selective on what they consider appropriate or acceptable behavior.

"So for me it would be okay, but I can't speak for anyone else."

Harry looked back at Simon, not feeling any better about his situation and his face showed it.

Aaron watched the teenager for a moment and then decided to go out on a limb. After all he could hardly be embarrassed any more than from this evening. He only hoped that Harry wouldn't withdraw due to his own embarrassment.

"It's frustrating, isn't it? To be attracted to someone you're not supposed to be attracted to."

Harry's head snapped around towards Aaron, a mixture of fear and anger playing across his face. Aaron held his hands up as if in surrender.

"Whoa! Believe it or not I'm on your side," he added quickly, "In more ways than one."

"You mean you're gay?" Harry asked after a full minute of observing the translator.

Aaron nodded. "Though I would ask if you didn't toss that around. Normally I wouldn't care but after this evening I don't want anyone thinking ill of Professor Weasley."

Harry nodded but then furrowed his brow in concentration, pondering what Aaron had said before. "So you really are attracted to Bill, um I mean Professor Weasley?"

Aaron smiled slightly and released a heavy sigh. "Very much so."

"I thought that was all just Fred and George."

Aaron shook his head, "They tried to dose me with veritaserum only they accidentally made it wrong. It worked in that it compelled me to tell the truth, but their weird formula also made me act out what I was thinking."

Harry couldn't help but be stunned by Aaron's admission. He personally didn't have an issue with it, but having been raised in a restricted and bigoted environment himself, it was still a shock to hear a man profess intimate feelings for another man. The fact that Aaron Devlin didn't try and hide his actions behind the twin's prank shocked him even more.

"Does Professor Weasley know this?"

Aaron leaned back as much as he could in the uncomfortable chair. "I'm not sure. Probably."

"I wish I could be as open as you," Harry said softly, not really looking at anything.

"So do I, but I think you are already aware of the likely repercussions were your secret revealed. I'm not sure if the wizarding world is ready to hear their great hero is, how shall I put it, abnormal."

Harry scoffed as he looked back to Simon. "It wouldn't be the first time. But I could care less what the wizarding world thinks of me," then he sighed, "But it's not me I'm worried about."

Aaron chuckled ruefully, "Birds of a feather."

Harry gave Aaron a sympathetic smile then a huge yawn.

"You should sleep," Aaron suggested and with a nod Harry curled up into bed and was fast asleep.

Aaron tried to make himself more comfortable in the stiff chair but it was difficult. As he considered just climbing into one of the hospital beds, his stiff chair suddenly transformed itself into a rather comfortable couch. He was about to jump up but a tall red-headed man sat down next to him.

Aaron froze, his hands on the couch as if to propel him up. Bill just relaxed back, looking at the translator. His face was passive and as collected as ever, but Aaron saw the cacophony of emotions in his eyes. Aaron slowly leaned back into the couch but he couldn't fully relax.

"Hi," Bill said quietly.

"Hello," Aaron replied just as quietly.

"How's Kim doing?"

Aaron looked at the child sleeping fitfully.

"Physically he's going to be fine. Madame Pomfrey mended his arm like it was a scratch and the wounds on his legs were mostly superficial. Looked worse than it was. Emotionally..." Aaron had to pause while he reprocessed everything, "He was almost murdered. How can one deal with that, especially at his age?"

"Not an easy thing to deal with, I suspect."

"The thing is," Aaron swallowed hard, "If Simon tells it right, Kim didn't panic. He actually fought back right until the end. God what bravery. A Gryffindor if there ever was one. And I so had him pegged as a Hufflepuff.

Bill leaned forward in thought.

"No, I think you had it right to begin with. Kim should be in Hufflepuff.

Aaron threw a sharp glare at Bill. "That wasn't bravery?"

"Oh, no, don't get me wrong," Bill put his hands up in surrender, "He was as brave as any Gryffindor could ever be. I'm just saying that he strikes me more as a Hufflepuff from his behaviour. He works twice as hard as any of his classmates even in things that his lack of hearing has no bearing on and it doesn't faze him one bit. He practically relishes the work."

Aaron became contrite and lowered his gaze, "Sorry."

"There's nothing for you to be sorry about," Bill said softly, "I'm the one who should be apologizing..."

"You didn't do anything," Aaron interrupted, "I embarrassed you in front of the whole school."

"You were under the influence of a botched potion," Bill replied, "Everyone knows it was a prank by the twins. I'm just sorry you had to go through that. I can assure you that they won't be messing around with Veritaserum again for some time."

"So..." Aaron wasn't exactly sure what to make of that. Did Bill think that Aaron's words in the Great Hall were false? Merely a product of a poorly-made potion? "You weren't offended by... er everything and all?"

"No," Bill shook his head slightly, "

"Even if what I said was true?" Aaron went cold, not believing that he was actually admitting his attraction to Bill.

Bill's heart began pounding. Aaron really did like him! He took a deep breath to calm himself.

"Actually, if what you had said was true, not only would I be quite flattered, I would probably feel the need to reciprocate the sentiments.

Aaron's heart nearly beat out of his chest. The cold he was feeling turned almost instantly into heat. He was glad the light was low because he as sure he was turning bright red. He tentively reached out to grasp the red-head's hand and found it. Their hands grasped each other tightly as if either one let go their feelings would fade away as if some dream.

Aaron's blush increased dramatically as his body reacted to the touch. He felt the heat in Bill's hand and surmised correctly that Bill was also aroused. It took all his restraint not to jump the man right there but having been in several failed relationships he found that starting one off with sex was not the way to make it last. And he wanted this one to last.

Aaron noticed that Bill had started to shake slightly and he looked at the tall man with concern. A myriad of emotions played across the Defense Professor's face and his eyes flared with with passion and fear.

"What's wrong?" Aaron asked in a whisper, afraid that his normal speaking voice would break their connection.

"I... I don't know what to do now," Bill replied nervously, "I've never been with... I've only dated girls in my youth and... well to be honest I was never quite adept at it.

Aaron raised his eyebrows at hearing that.

"Really? I always thought you would have the women swooning all over you."

"Oh, well that's easy enough to do by just looking at them," Bill said unabashedly, "But trying to get a decent conversation out of them would be like trying to get You-Know-Who to do the Hula. Damn near impossible and even if you managed it you wouldn't like the results."

Aaron sputtered, trying to stifle his laughs. It wouldn't do to have Madame Pomfrey kick them out for being loud. He regained his composure quickly enough but gave Bill a look. Bill seemed completely unrepentant and Aaron couldn't help but smile.

The moment was soon over when Bill once again seemed to be at a loss. Aaron decided that if they were to get anywhere he would have to be in control, at least at first. He couldn't imagine Bill doing well in a strictly passive role, but that suited Aaron. A good relationship was one where both had an equitable contribution.

Aaron squeezed Bill's hand lightly, "Well I have some experience with this and I am pleased to tell you that so far you're doing just fine. The best thing for us to do is just act normally and not to rush into anything."

The tension that Bill was holding inside himself was released with a heavy sigh. Aaron smiled and shifted himself closer to the red-head. Bill reacted favorably by placing his arm around Aaron and then pulling him in closer. Aaron released a sigh of his own as he relaxed into the muscular man's embrace.

After a few quiet, enjoyable minutes Aaron turned and looked straight into Bill's eyes.

"As much as I'd like to just continue sitting here, I feel we should discuss how we are going to go about this," Aaron said carefully, "I have never bothered to hide who or what I am. I don't go about advertising that I'm gay, but I've never really denied it when asked.

"I have to tell you, Bill, if I'm asked, I won't lie. At least I won't lie about myself."

Bill took a deep breath and slowly released it, "I've only come out to my immediate family and the Headmaster. It's not something the wizarding world has come to accept with any positive feelings."

Aaron nodded, "I understand. Well, you already agreed to help tutor me so we can use that as an excuse to see each other, but we should probably try and rope in the longing looks."

Bill furrowed a brow at Aaron's unusual statement and Aaron chuckled, "We've been noticed by a certain Gryffindor who should be a Hufflepuff. Apparently we're acting like 'girls'."

Both Bill and Aaron chuckled lightly and Bill pulled Aaron back into his embrace, needing the contact.

"It's funny, Fred and George played that little prank in the hopes that we'd get together. I doubt they meant to do it so publicly."

"Well the irony isn't lost on me but I'm still going to get revenge."

"Oh?" Bill was suddenly curious as to what kind of revenge could be wreaked upon the twins that didn't involve massive violence. His voice said as much.

"Nothing permanent or disfiguring I assure you," Aaron added hearing Bill's unease, "But whatever I do it'll be sure to leave a lasting impression. I just need to brain storm a bit."

Bill couldn't help but grin wickedly, "Please tell me you'll let me help you."

"Well seeing as how we were both embarrassed by that little display I don't see why not."

"Good," Bill chuckled, then let Aaron go with a sigh, "I'd better get to sleep if I want to be coherent in class tomorrow.

Aaron stood with him and they looked at each other once again. Aaron gingerly leaned in and kissed gently on the lips. After a brief moment they met each other in a deeper, more passionate kiss. Aaron couldn't help but whimper his pleasure with Bill's taste. All too soon for both of them they parted.

"I had best be going," Bill croaked out quietly.

Aaron could only nod, imagining just what kind of trouble they would get into had they held the kiss any longer.

The interpreter flopped down on the couch once Bill was gone and once again fell asleep with a smile on his face.


End file.
